


Baked

by jackiestolz



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Baking, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackiestolz/pseuds/jackiestolz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out Lil' J is a fan of all things baked (in the oven, where he put them as an enthusiastic baker). Now the Achievement Hunter office is making requests to see if he's any good. But will his affection for baking lead him to his other great affection, one Ryan Haywood?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wow let's hope i can actually upload this time lmao. anyway yeah this is a departure from my usual but i hope you guys enjoy reading it because i'm certainly enjoying writing it :)

“Nah, well, I can’t pay attention to movies, it’s too big a hastle.” Jeremy says with a smile. “But you know what I really love?”

“Dick.” Michael supplies.

“We’re talking hobbies.” Ryan says pointedly from his usual Off Topic stool. “Dick isn’t a hobby. Dick riding, dick sucking--”

“It’s not dicks.” Jeremy cuts in with barely a blush. “I’m trying to tell you guys an actual hobby. Unlike gaming or drinking; we do that shit for a living.”

Geoff smiles into his beer, and Michael looks ready to banter, but he lets Jeremy continue.

“I love to bake.” Jeremy says proudly. “Obviously now that I’m keeping fit I can’t do it so much.”

They all stare at him a moment, wide-eyed and seemingly perplexed, and Jeremy gives them all sneaky glances, but can’t bring himself to look at Ryan. He’s possibly wondering if he’s on the receiving end of a judgmental stare from his handsome friend when Geoff speaks up.

“Let me get this straight.” He says, mostly to his drink, “You’re a baker. You bake cakes and shit.”

“I bake anything.” Jeremy answers. “I can do donuts, choux a la creme,--”

“Whoa, what fucking French nonsense is that?” Ryan asks, and Jeremy shifts in his chair at the knowledge that he hasn’t impressed. Michael, meanwhile, still looks shocked and steals his attention.

“Seriously though, you? A baker? Ripped Lil’ J making pignoli?” Michael asks, and Jeremy returns the surprised expression.

“How do you know what a pignolo is?” He asks, but Michael waves his hand.

“I’m from New Jersey, I can name an Italian cookie or two.” He says, and before he can speak further, Geoff steps in.

“So obviously you’re gonna bake us something.”

“Are you guys actually gonna eat it, or just make fun of it?” Jeremy asks, making it clear why he’s never brought in a batch of fresh cookies before. He hears Ryan give a soft chuckle, and it’s clear that there’s a pitiful bit of understanding in it, but he has no doubt that Ryan would poke fun just as much as the rest of them.

“What?” Geoff asks, mockingly uproarious. “Why, we would never!”

“Alright, alright--” Jeremy says, but Geoff continues.

“Of course we wouldn’t tease your baking! You put a lot of effort in, every time you put on your apron and hair net--”

“Okay--” Jeremy waves his hand, “I get it.”

“Lil’ J kneading a goddamn pizza dough.” Michael snickers.

“That’s his favorite part, getting that workout!” Ryan grins. “‘Oh, instead of dumbbells I’ll make a loaf of bread.’”

Michael lets out a hearty laugh at that. Jeremy gives his best straight-laced grouchy expression to the camera, playing along all he can, but can’t help wonder for the umpteenth time what the hell he was doing with Ryan. Why didn’t he just properly flirt with him and get it over with? Make it clear he was interested so he could get a speedy rejection and move on. After a moment of his silent scouring, Geoff speaks again.

“You know what I want?” He asks, pointing to Jeremy. “I want to know what a pecan pie tastes like.”

“I can make that.” Jeremy affirms immediately, distracting himself with a mental list of ingredients.

“No.” Geoff explains, “I can’t eat pecans. If you can make a pecan pie without the pecans, I’ll be your best fucking friend Lil’ J.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Jeremy repeats without hesitation, and Geoff looks doubtful.

“A life without pecan pie! Unbelievable.” Ryan speaks up, and Geoff waves him off.

“Get your Georgian ass out of this conversation, Haywood.” He says, and Michael laughs again.

“Hey, I want rainbow cookies, get me some of those.” Michael says with a slightly mocking grin, and Jeremy sighs.

“Okay, and what do you want, Ryan?” He asks, fighting the affection in his tone.

“Hey now, I gotta have time to think about this.” He flashes Jeremy a charming smile. “We’ve got a world class Parisian baker in our midst, after all.”

“Ryan fucking loves his sweets, too, he’ll suck down whatever ya give him.” Michael says, and Geoff lets out a resounding “Hey-ooo” as he stands to refill his drink.

“Well, I’ll get right on that.” Jeremy says with a grin, and the conversation shifts.

A pecan-less pecan pie was an easy start, and it was easier to bake than to think about his endless and surely unreturned infatuation for a certain dusty-blond Achievement Hunter. So he forgets his worries for a bit and returns to the conversation, already excited just thinking about rolling out a pie crust.

Okay, maybe some of that mocking was earned.


	2. Chapter 2

When Jeremy gets home to his tiny apartment that night, everything is so easy. At work, he’d already figured out what to make; at first, he thought of the obvious chess pie, but that was too plain, too simple. Obviously the brown sugar pie, then, as a brilliant replacement to the usual pecan, but then that texture was missing. An oatmeal pie would be the obvious answer, as it was literally created during the Civil War as a poor man’s pecan pie.

But then of course not everyone liked oats. And, when imagining bringing in a full pie, his first thought was of two slices carefully removed and thoroughly enjoyed, followed by a nine-inch diameter circular stain on the new carpet. He genuinely cringed at his desk when he thought of something he worked hard on not being enjoyed.

Tartlets, then. Plural -- one brown sugar, one oatmeal pie, make the latter black-bottomed for added interest. He was nearly bouncing down the grocery store aisles.

“Let’s get to work, Scooter!” Jeremy says as he sets down his grocery bag and pulls out some rolled oats. Scooter merely stares at him.

First he makes the crust; he’d prefer one traditional for the oatmeal, one ginger-snap crumb for the brown sugar, but he doesn’t want his effort laughed at, so he settles for making just the traditional for both. He whisks the dry ingredients, cuts in the butter and shortening, stirs in the vodka, and kneads a disk of dough, then throws it in the fridge. 

He cleans the area, throws together a salad for himself and spoons canned food into Scooter’s dish, then prepares the fillings.

The first, brown sugar, requires just that, along with butter, eggs, cinnamon and vanilla. He melts butter and stirs in the remaining ingredients with ease, then sets it aside. For the second, black-bottom oatmeal, he preheats the oven to 350 and toasts the oats for a few minutes, then mixes them with butter, corn syrup, and ginger. He sets the filling aside, reveling in the aroma, and makes a simple ganache with dark chocolate and heavy cream, then sets that aside as well.

“It’s fucking time for the real action, Scooter.” He says as he hauls a chair from the kitchen table to one of his cabinets. He stands on it and opens the cabinet door, sifting through cookie cutters and pastry brushes until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Four-inch spring-form tartlet pans.” He mumbles happily to himself, as it had been so long since he used them.

He gets down from the chair, washes them in the sink, and lets them dry while he grabs his dough. He flours his counter and rolls it out, then grabs one of the tartlet pans and uses it to cut a perfect crust shape. He butters and flours the pan, gently presses the dough in, and spoons in some ganache with a gentle hand, then pours the oat mixture on top. He uses the other tartlet pan to do the same, then pours in the brown sugar mixture and adds that to the oven as well.

He begins cleaning with an incredible excitement. He knows they’ll both turn out wonderful, and he can’t wait for Geoff to try them. Everyone in the office may laugh, but he’s hoping to impress on at least some level, especially when it came to Ryan.

Oh. Ryan. He’d temporarily escaped that infatuation when he started baking, but now it had returned in full force. Oh, well. He always gets wistful when he’s waiting for something to come out of the oven. The moments that didn’t revolve around working brought his sappy little imagination to life. Would Ryan laugh as his tartlets? Or worse, would he be indifferent?

He finishes cleaning, pulls the tartlets, and takes a shower, the worry still following him, but there was nothing he could do about it. He could be a perfectionist at times, and stress came naturally with that.

“Let’s pull these fuckers from their pans.” He mutters to himself as he walks into the kitchen, drying his hair with a towel. “The big reveal, right Scooter?”

Scooter is sleeping in a box and decides not to respond, so he gently pulls the tartlets from the pans, then uses a metal spatula to separate the bases from the crusts with perfect execution. Happily, he grabs two small white cardboard boxes, folds them and tucks their corners with precision, and sets the two tartlets inside each.

He absolutely cannot wait to go to work tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

He’s one of the first ones in the next day, and has difficulty concealing his ear-to-ear grin. He sets the two boxes down on Geoff’s desk, and Jack notices immediately.

“Hey Jeremy, what’s that?” He asks, and Michael, the only other one in, looks up curiously.

“Nothing.” He brushes it off casually, but Michael’s giving him a look.

“What did you fucking do, Lil’ J?” He asks with a mischievous grin that Jeremy returns, but it falters when Ryan walks in.

He turns away and settles down in his chair, avoiding the handsome man’s glance as his nerves rise within him again.

“Morning boys.” Geoff calls out as he strolls in a minute later, and there’s a hum of replies as he steps over to his desk. “The fuck is this?”

“Lil’ J’s being a fucking rascal, that’s what that is.” Michael supplies, and Geoff gives them both a suspicious glance before he opens the first package.

“Oh my god!” He cries out, his voice cracking. “Is this the not-pecan pie?”

“There’s two.” Jeremy replies as he turns to him. “For variety.”

“Two?” Geoff yells out and opens the other. “Oh my god!”

“Jeremy, I can’t fucking believe you.” Michael says. “Why’d you make two?”

“Well, the first is oatmeal pie.” Jeremy explains as Jack walks over to look at the tartlets. “It’s closer to a pecan pie but a lot of people don’t like oats so I made a brown sugar just incase.”

“You put way too much effort into this, man.” Jack says as Geoff rushes out of the room, mumbling about grabbing a fork. “I kinda thought you were joking when I saw the podcast.”

“You heard him speaking french and thought he was joking?” Ryan spoke up for the first time, and Jeremy laughed.

“I’m trying this shit right now.” Geoff announces upon his return, Matt Bragg trailing in behind him.

“I can’t believe you guys are surprised by this.” He says as Geoff looks at his tartlets, clearly deciding which he should go for first. “He’s baked for me before.”

“What the fuck, Matt, you knew about this?” Michael asks, and Matt gets mockingly defensive.

“I didn’t know he had cutesy little boxes for mini-pies!” He yells defiantly. “He just made peanut butter cookies once!”

“Everyone shut the hell up so I can savor this.” Geoff says in his commanding voice as he cuts into the brown sugar pie. “I spent my whole life waiting for this moment.”

The room falls silent as Geoff scoops up a forkful of pie and eats it. Jeremy studies his face carefully, but he’s hard to read, and after a moment takes a bite of the other pie.

“Holy shit.” Geoff says after a moment, and Jeremy’s hanging onto every word. “This is the best goddamn pie I’ve ever had.”

Jack cheers triumphantly, and Michael takes a closer look.

“Oh shit, there’s chocolate in this one? Lil’ J improved upon the pecan pie?” Michael asks, and Jeremy absolutely beams.

“I can’t believe I’m eating pecan pie.” Geoff says as he takes another bite of the oatmeal.

“Which do you prefer?” Jeremy asks, and Geoff shakes his head.

“I don’t know, they’re both so good! I think this one.” He points to the oatmeal. “I’m not a big oatmeal guy but I bet this one’s a closer texture.”

“How would you know if you’ve never had pecan?” Matt asks, and Michael nods.

“Yeah Geoff, you need someone who can compare the two.” Michael steps forward and holds out his hand for the fork.

“Well Ryan’s the southern one.” Jack points out, and Jeremy turns to him expectantly. “Care to try, Rye-bread?”

“It’s Geoff’s pie, let him enjoy it.” Ryan says with a polite shrug, and Jeremy feels himself deflate suddenly. Maybe Ryan didn’t want to taste what he’d made at all. Maybe he thought it wouldn’t be any good.

“I will allow someone to take one bite.” Geoff says firmly. “Just one, for comparison. Ryan?”

“No Geoff, you enjoy it, it’s yours.” He insists again, making Jeremy feel even worse.

“I’ll take a fucking bite.” Michael says, and takes a step forward. Geoff hands him the fork, and he takes a scoop of the oatmeal. He takes a bite as the room stares at him, once again in anticipation.

“Ugh.” Michael groans in the universal language of good food, and Jeremy smiles. “Remember when I said I wanted rainbow cookies? That’s not a joke anymore, I want those goddamn cookies.”

“Okay, but those have nuts in them so Geoff, keep away from those.” Jeremy orders, and Jack laughs.

“So Michael gets a bite of the nut-less pie, but Geoff can’t have any of his cookies.” He smiles, and Geoff pulls a scowl.

“And I better get some more peanut butter cookies.” Matt calls out, only deepening said scowl.

“Whatever, screw you guys.” Geoff says as he grabs a forkful of brown sugar. “I’ve got two mini-pies all to myself.”

“Technically, they’re tartlets.” Jeremy points out, and Michael laughs.

“Alright, back to work wise guys!” Geoff yells, and Jeremy looks over to see that Ryan’s already sat at his desk, and feels even worse.

He doesn’t like him, and he doesn’t like his pies. Jeremy should accept that now and move on before his lingering hope really lands him in the hot seat.

“Hey Jack, what are you gonna ask Jeremy to make for you?” He hears Michael whisper-shout across the room.

“Hmm, I don’t know.” He replies seriously, unlike Michael. “Jeremy, can you do ice cream?”

“Hell fucking yeah I can do ice cream.” He answers, sounding happier than he feels.

“Get back to work!” Geoff yells out, and the room falls silent once more.


	3. Chapter 3

Rainbow cookies are easy, but they have a few steps involved. So when Jeremy gets off of work and heads to the grocery store, he knows he won’t be handing them in tomorrow. But he buys some almond paste and raspberry jam anyway and heads home in a rush to get started.

He immediately chops up the almond paste with his favorite chef’s knife and throws it into a bowl with some sugar, grabs his hand mixer, and forms coarse crumbs. He adds the butter, then eggs, then sifted flour. Then he separates the batter into three bowls, and colors one red and another green. 

“See, why some people call these rainbow cookies are a mystery to me.” Jeremy mumbles to himself as he pulls out a baking sheet. “They’re Italian tri-color cookies, they match the Italian flag.”

He pours the red batter into the pan and spreads it with a spatula, then does the same with the other two and places both into the oven.

“Created by Italian-Americans in the early 1900’s.” He mumbles to himself as he sets the timer. “Most likely in New York or New Jersey.”

Which of course explains why Michael, massive softy that he is, requested some. But the process of making them is too arduous, so he only makes the layers, then lets them cool as he cleans his kitchen and eats dinner. Finally, he wraps them in plastic wrap and settles in for the night.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Lil’ J.” Michael says quietly as his little Banjo bear stares at Jeremy The Zombie in Minecraft. “Where’s those fucking cookies I asked for?”

“Those take time, Michael.” Jeremy replies easily, then notices Michael pull out a diamond sword. “No -- hey --”

The Minecraft death screen flashes up, and Jeremy sighs and spawns no where near where he needs to be.

“You better fucking hook me up with those cookies.” Michael mutters.

“That was the most threatening sentence about cookies I’ve ever heard.” Ryan muses, and Jack chuckles. That’s probably the most Jeremy will get from Ryan about them or any other dessert he made, given how little he seemed to care for yesterday’s treats.

“‘You better get me a glass of milk too, you bitch.’” Geoff threatens, and they all laugh, though Jeremy’s is just a little bit false.

“Fucking prick, if you’re gonna have such a dumb hobby it might as well be to our advantage.” Michael mutters insultingly.

“Seriously, you better give him those cookies or you’ll be in a right bit of trouble.” Gavin says, and Jeremy tunes out Geoff’s mocking response to his accent as he worries himself to death yet again. Stupid Ryan, with his broad shoulders and beautiful smile, goddamn him and the butterflies in Jeremy’s stomach when he thought of him. Shit. Can’t he just bake and be content with that?

 

* * *

 

When he gets home that evening, he knows all he wants to do is throw himself into his work, so he immediately unwraps the pink layer of cake, spreads it with raspberry jam, tops it with the white layer, spreads more jam, then tops that with the green layer. When all that is said and done, he grabs a sheet pan, places it on top of the cakes, and weighs it all down with a few cans.

“Oh, you gorgeous motherfuckers.” He whispers down at the future cookies as he leans forward to peek at the colored cake and oozing jam. Satisfied for now, he cleans, eats dinner, sets an alarm, and takes a nap.

He’s aware that it may be a bit ridiculous to shift his sleeping schedule around making cookies, but come on, he can’t just sit up late for four hours and he can’t go another day without bringing them in when they’re a few steps from perfect, being the perfectionist that he is.

He wakes up four hours later, alarm blasting, and pulls himself out of bed, half asleep as he melts chocolate in a double broiler. He trims the cake quickly but precisely, not wanting messy lines to ruin a beautiful cookie. He then pours the chocolate over the top, grabs a metal spatula, and smooths it over neatly. Grabbing some red, white and green nonpareils, he knew there would be some teasing in the office the next day, but he couldn’t resist having a decent presentation.

“You beautiful bastards.” He mumbles to the cookies in yes, a weird way, it’s weird Jeremy, stop doing that. He cleans, waits for the chocolate to grow tacky but not yet firm, and slices the cookies before finally going to bed exhausted.

 

* * *

 

When he walks into the office the next day, he’s nearly the last one there, and he sees all eyes in the room point down to the white cardboard box in his hands. He walks over to Michael’s desk, where his things are sitting, and sets it down before sitting in his own chair.

“Ah, it’s all kicking off.” Gavin says, and goes over to Michael’s desk.

“Gavin.” Geoff warns, in a tone not unlike a strict father, and Gavin smiles mischievously.

“I’m just taking a peek.” Gavin says, lifting the lid by just a hair.

“Gavin, don’t fuck those up, they’re for Michael.” Jeremy warns as well, having worked so diligently on them. Not that he’d admit that, of course. He glances over to the lanky fool and instead catches eyes with Ryan. He’s looking on amused, more so at Gavin’s antics than in desire to see the cookies. 

Ugh. He doesn’t care at all. He’d just as soon lick the floor as he would eat anything Jeremy made for him. His one hobby, his very favorite thing, and Ryan couldn’t be bothered with it.

“I see a Jeremy, do I see cookies?” Michael asks as he steps into the room, which gives Jeremy proper distraction from all his angst. 

“You see cookies!” Jeremy replies as Michael spots Gavin, narrows his eyes, and rushes over to him at his desk.

“What are you doing to my fucking cookies?” He asks, his voice demanding, and Gavin squeaks and stands back.

“Nothing, I didn’t even get a peek!” He swears, and Michael eyes him warily.

“First peek is for me, bitch.” He says and looks into the box with a gasp. “Holy fuck, they’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Jeremy says as Gavin looks over his shoulder and Jack gets up to look as well.

“I like the sprinkles.” Jack notes with a subtle hint of mockery in his voice, and Jeremy grimaces, though he’s unsurprised.

“You know, Jeremy? I’m gonna let you have a piece. For being baking nerd supreme.” Michael says, and pulls out a cookie.

“Nah, I’m on a diet.” Jeremy answers, and Gavin bounces up and down.

“Can I have it? Please Michael?” Gavin begs, and Michael rolls his eyes and hands him the cookie. “Yes!”

“Keep them away from me or I’ll die.” Geoff commands from the other side of the room.

“Not a fucking problem.” Michael says and picks up a cookie. “Me and Lindsay are eating all of these.”

He pops one into his mouth and groans, and Gavin looks down at his own cookie in fascination.

“This is really cool, Jeremy.” Gavin says, and he’s surprised by the earnest tone in his voice.

“Thank you, Gavin.” He answers, happy that for once he’s not being mocked as expected.

“You know what I like?” He says, then takes a bite of his cookie.

“Fucking swallow before you speak, dipshit.” Michael cuts in. “These are so good, Jeremy.”

“I like when vanilla stuff has the black specks in it.” Gavin continues, clearly choosing to ignore Michael. “Can you make something like that?”

“You really shouldn’t have.” Michael talks around Gav. “It’s too nice.”

“They’re easy to make. I enjoy it.” Jeremy insists, though he’s distracted by Gavin’s inquiry as joy bubbles in his chest. “Fresh vanilla bean? Looks like I’ll have to take a trip to Penzey’s.”

“Fucking watch out, Penzey’s.” Geoff grins. “What the hell is that?”

“A spice store! Oh I’m so excited.” Jeremy says, and the office laughs.

“I can’t believe Jeremy secretly gets off to spices.” Michael says, and grabs a cookie to take to Lindsay. 

“We’ve made a wonderful discovery.” Ryan says in a dry but not unpleasant tone, and Jeremy looks over to see him still at his desk, unperturbed by his surroundings. By things he clearly doesn’t care about.

Oh well. He’ll continue to suck it up, spend the day thinking of Penzey’s to fill the void in his chest.

 

* * *

 

After work, he takes the long drive to his beloved Penzey’s Spice Store, and buys vanilla beans, stocks up on cinnamon, and splurges on some crystallized ginger. It isn’t until after he pays, leaves the best smelling building in Austin, and hops in his car that he realizes what he’s going to make.

And it’s going to be so damn good.


	4. Chapter 4

“Have you started my vanilla thing yet?” Gavin asks amidst the sounds of cars crashing on their screens.

“I bought the vanilla and I have a recipe in mind.” Jeremy answers and swerves around Geoff’s car as the elder man swears. “I’ll start tonight.”

“Don’t tell me what it is! I want a surprise.” Gavin says, and Jeremy nods.

“Dude, it could be anything.” Michael comments. “Vanilla’s in everything.”

“Vanilla bean and vanilla extract are two very different things.” Jeremy begins to explain, though he’s well aware that he would probably be cut off in a moment. “Vanilla bean is valuable and exists in the culinary world as an assertive flavor. Meanwhile vanilla extract is only supportive. You see--”

“Yeah, okay, dick. Shut up and make Gavin his cake.” Geoff says, predictably interrupting him.

“It’s not a cake.”

“Stop giving hints!” Gavin screeches, then promptly rolls his car into a ditch.

“Better not be a cake.” Michael says. “Vanilla cake is fucking boring.”

Jeremy decides to let that one go, though if he wanted, he could ask if Michael meant white or yellow cake and go on about cake varieties for at least an hour.

“Hey Gavvers, do you want an individual or enough for everyone?” Jeremy asks, and glances over to see serious consideration on the man’s face.

“Would it be an inconvenience to do enough for the whole office?” Gavin asks, secretly a sweetheart, and Jeremy shakes his head.

“It’s usually easier to do a big thing instead of halving a recipe.” Jeremy answers. “The first time I halved a recipe, I left in the same amount of butter, ended up with a greasy cake.”

“Did you hear that, Gavin? He’s making you cake.” Ryan speaks up for the first time. Jeremy cranes his neck to see Ryan staring intently at his screen, more focused on GTA than the conversation. Just taking the opportunity to tease Gavin.

“Oi! Quit spoiling it!”

“It’s not cake!” Michael yelled. “He just said it wasn’t cake, you idiot!”

Jeremy smiled and shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was going to Gavin and the office some Eton Mess.

 

* * *

 

“Eton Mess.” Jeremy explains, “Is a trifle invented in Eton, England. It’s made of crumbled meringue cookies, whipped cream and strawberries. Understand?”

Scooter licks his paw inattentively. Jeremy sighs.

“Let’s beat some egg whites.”

He beats the whites with sugar, cream of tartar, and vanilla bean. As he sees the black specks spread in the white mixture, he can’t help his excitement. Vanilla! It’s so good! And in making an English food, Gavin would have a harder time mocking it. What jokes could be made when he plays so heavily on sentiment?

He grabs a pastry bag, a coupler and his favorite star shaped icing tip that he received as a gift, one his mom got from Sur La Table on his twentieth birthday. He fills the bag and pipes them out onto a baking sheet, careful as always but not overly so, because the meringue ends up smashed in the trifle anyway.

After he throws them in the oven, he turns to the fridge and grabs some strawberries.

“We’re gonna macerate these.” He explains over his shoulder to Scooter. “Meaning we’re gonna chop them up, toss them with sugar, and let them sit at room temp to break down cell walls and release juices.”

He grabs a paring knife and cuts the berries carefully; baking doesn’t involve knives as much as cooking, and he’s not so skilled with them that he can move very quickly.

“But Eton Mess usually adds a little booze, so we’re gonna throw in some orange liqueur.” He continues, explaining away to his feline friend.

Strawberries and orange pair so well with vanilla, after all. That’s what he was thinking of when he drove home from Penzey’s last night, wondering what he could make. Vanilla does go in a lot of things, but it goes best in something plain and simple, like cream and sugar. At first he’d wondered what to make with vanilla whipped cream, and then wondered if he should instead make meringue cookies, but then it had hit him. A wonderful English dessert that consisted of them both, of course.

He finishes the strawberries, taking a bit longer than he likes, and sets them aside. He then pulls out a packet of kosher gelatin and measures some out into a bowl, then adds water to that.

“We gotta make whipped cream that lasts until tomorrow, which is rough because the shit deflates, separates, and you get a watery mess.” He calls to Scooter, who’s too busy chasing a ball to respond. “So we’re gonna stabilize it with gelatin.”

He pulls out his hand mixer as he waits for the gelatin to bloom, pours ice into a bowl, then sets another bowl on top.

“Whipped cream’s gotta be made cold.” He says aloud. “So I’m putting it in a chilled bowl.”

He takes the beaters and cream out of the fridge, then adds sugar and vanilla, whips it together, and when it holds soft peaks, adds gelatin. 

“Ugh. Perfect. This is like fucking pornography.” He says to himself with a barely restrained groan.

He’s thrilled to make something that requires this kind of technique -- it’s hard to explain, but there’s nothing like proving that you’re good at something, even if you’re only proving it to yourself.

He takes the cookies out of the oven and puts them on a cooling rack, packs the whipped cream and strawberries into two separate tupperware, and retires for the night, tired but excited for work the next day.

 

* * *

 

“So when will my vanilla surprise be ready?” Gavin asks, and Jeremy snorts.

“Alright, that was Presented With Comment, featuring the gayest ending to a video ever.” He says to the camera, and everyone laughs. “It’s in the fridge, we’ll have it at lunch.”

“Okay guys, guess we’re having lunch now.” Gavin claps his hands together, and Jeremy chuckles as Ryan steps out of the room.

Oh fuck, _wait_. Ryan’s doing The Patch. That is _not_ what he wanted. Now that he’s made something for everyone, Ryan would surely eat it. If he was there, that is, but now he’s gone off.

“We can wait, if you like.” Jeremy says weakly, without an excuse as to why they would do such a thing, but Gavin instantly shakes his head.

“Nah, I want it now, I want to find out what it is!” He says with a grin, and Jeremy looks to Geoff helplessly to see what he thinks and gazes at his pondering expression.

“Well let’s go, Gavin’s got a cake to eat.” Geoff says brusquely, and the whole gang, minus Ryan, piles into the kitchen. Jeremy grabs his backpack and follows reluctantly, though he doesn’t let it show.

“What is it, what are we having?” Lindsay asks, and perks up as Jeremy zips open his backpack and pulls out some red solo cups. “Booze?”

“Well normally this involves more presentation.” He explains and pulls out a small box of plastic spoons. “We’re sticking with disposable plastic though.”

“I’m excited for whatever this is.” Jack says as he takes the liberty of handing out cups and spoons.

“It’s called Eton Mess, it’s a type of English dessert.” Jeremy says, and turns to Gavin, who’s gone slack-jawed.

“You’ve made Eton Mess?” He asks slowly, and Jeremy nods. “Really?”

That’s when Jeremy notices that Gavin’s actually tearing up. Over a trifle. He turns his head away from the group and Jeremy, taking pity, quickly explains the dish to the group to divert their attention.

“It’s crumbled vanilla meringue cookies, vanilla whipped cream, and strawberries in orange liqueur.” He says and pulls the tupperware out of the fridge. “You guys wanna put it together yourselves or . . . ?”

“You go first Lil’ J, show us how it goes.” Lindsay smiles, and Jeremy puts a clean plastic spoon in each tupperware.

“I haven’t had Eton Mess since I was a kid.” Gavin mumbles, turning back to him with red-rimmed eyes, and Jeremy takes his cup wordlessly and loads it with cream, cookies and strawberries. “I used to eat it with my brother.”

He nods silently, surprised that Gavin had teared up. Of course he’d been playing on his sensitivity, but he’d never expected the man to actually _cry_.

“I hope you like it.” Jeremy says, and stands aside so everyone else can fill their cups. If Ryan wasn’t around to enjoy it, at least Gavin would.

“I will.” Gavin takes a bite and nods, then positively beams. “I do. This is great!”

That’s what Jeremy loves about baking. Giving someone a reason to smile, being well liked, enjoying himself and having pride in his efforts. He never should have kept his talent a secret.

“Wow, this is an actually good vanilla thing.” Lindsay affirms as she licks her spoon.

“Yeah, good job.” Jack says as the group takes their food. “But hey, Jeremy, I have a question.”

“Go for it.” He says, and Jack gives him a serious look.

“Where the fuck is my ice cream?”

Jeremy laughs, his mood considerably lightens as they begin to talk flavors.

 

* * *

 

He’s walking out later, thinking he’s alone, but a familiar voice says his name, and he turns to see Ryan a few steps behind him.

“Hey.” He says, his breath hitching in his chest when he catches sight of the man illuminated in the moonlight, the handsome fucker.

“Hey. I heard about what you did for Gavin before. That was really nice.” He says earnestly, and Jeremy’s surprised.

“It’s not a big deal. I’m sorry you didn’t get to have any, Caleb came around and stole some.” He apologizes, nearly rambling, but Ryan waves him off.

“That’s fine. It’s just -- I don’t know, I just thought that was sweet of you.” He gives him a dazzling smile, and Jeremy’s so dumbfounded he can only nod. “Anyway, goodnight.”

“Night.” He replies distantly as Ryan walks off to his own car.

So, turns out baking for others is worming his way into a certain Haywood’s heart.

He needs to make that goddamn ice cream, stat.


	5. Chapter 5

When Jeremy pulls out his KitchenAid Ice Cream Maker attachment for his stand mixer, he swears he almost came in his pants. Maybe he shouldn’t get so excited about spending his day off watching a House Hunters marathon and churning ice cream, but he can’t help himself. It’s hard to give up a hobby because of how bad it is for you arteries.

He throws the attachment in the freezer for the allotted time and grabs a saucepan, melting some unsalted butter and adding some sugar and cream.

“This is gonna be so fucking good.” He says to himself as he pours the caramel onto a baking sheet to harden. “And are these people idiots? You can re-paint it for Christ’s sake!”

He grabs some potato chips and crushes them up, then washes out that saucepan and fills it with water, gets it to a simmer, and places a bowl on top to make a bain marie. To that bowl he adds chopped dark chocolate and coconut oil, and when melted, sets to the side.

He cracks the caramel as a couple chooses the wrong house with just a t _errible_ layout, throws the bits of caramel into the chocolate, then sifts them out with a spider strainer. He dumps them back onto the tray and repeats with the potato chips, doing everything in his power not to eat any of the chocolatey crumbs. Finally, he brews a strong cup of espresso and leaves it to the side.

“Time for the real shit.” He says, only feeling a tad overdramatic, and pulls out the ice cream maker. He attaches it to his stand mixer and begins to churn the cream, eggs, and condensed milk. 

He lets it go on its own for awhile as he preheats his broiler and grabs a bag of mini marshmallows. He lines a baking sheet with foil, then sprays it with cooking spray, pours on the marshmallows and toasts them in the oven until brown.

“Holy fucking shit, Scooter.” He says as he pulls the caramelized marshmallows from the oven and inhales the smell of s’mores. “How beautiful is this?”

Using a spatula, he scoops the marshmallows into a blender, then throws some cream and egg yolk into a saucepan, thickens it, and adds that to the blender as well with some vanilla extract. He puts the top on, then places a kitchen rag over that and clamps down firmly as he blends the hot mixture.

“Oh, well, I _have_ to taste that.” Jeremy says aloud and grabs a spoon. “Just to make sure.”

It’s amazing, of course, a thin puree of toasted marshmallow goodness. He sets it aside and cleans up his kitchen as the ice cream continues to churn, then resets his bain marie, chops up some of his prized Trader Joe’s semisweet and unsweetened chocolate, and melts it with butter while he whips eggs and sugar. He adds it in, beats in flour, and pours the batter into an eight by eight pan. He tosses the brownies into the oven and cleans his kitchen all over again.

After that, it’s all about waiting for the brownies to cook and the cream to churn. So now he can sit down and watch House Hunters and . . . fantasize about Ryan. Damnit. He forgot that waiting on things to bake and churn often results in daydreaming. But still, he can’t help but wonder if Ryan will actually eat this ice cream, actually enjoy it, smile at him in the gorgeous way he does and compliment him, even thank him.

What he really wants from that big nerd is a set of heart-eyes and an invitation to dinner, but until then, he supposes he’ll have to settle for an appreciative glance, at least. But Ryan will have some of this ice cream, he would be sure of that.

A little while later, he pulls the brownies, waits for them to cool, adds the espresso to the ice cream base, and waits another two hours. Then he crumbles the brownies into chunks, throws them into the coffee ice cream, then adds the chocolate covered potato chips and caramel shards. Finally, he turns off the mixer, folds in the marshmallow swirl, and places the ice cream into a tupperware.

“Oh my god this is gonna be insane.” He giggles as he places the ice cream into his freezer. He can’t wait for Jack, and perhaps more importantly, Ryan, to try it.

 

* * *

 

“Well boys, I think it’s time for us mature, adult men to take an ice cream break.” Geoff says as they finish filming. “Jeremy, get us that fucking ice cream.”

“Yessir.” Jeremy says, and walks to the kitchen with a bounce in his step. When he returns, he pulls more red solo cups and spoons out of his backpack.

“We don’t fucking need no bowls.” Michael says as he grabs a cup. Jack takes the rest from Jeremy and dutifully passes them out.

“What flavor did you guys decide on?” Lindsay asks, and Jeremy looks to Jack.

“Coffee ice cream with brownie chunks, I think some caramel, potato chips.” He explains, and Geoff groans. “What else?”

“Chocolate covered caramel and potato chip bits with a toasted marshmallow swirl.” Jeremy adds, and Lindsay makes an appreciative sound. “Let me get yours first, Jack.”

“Oh yeah.” Jack says appreciatively, and Jeremy spoons him a hefty amount of ice cream with the scoop he brought from home (it’s one of his favorite Cuisinart purchases) and passes it over.

“You having some, Ryan?” Michael calls over to him at his desk, and Jeremy looks over to see, Oh God No, his face all scrunched up in disgust. Jeremy almost faints on the spot.

“No, I hate coffee. You guys enjoy.” He says, and when he glances to Jeremy he quickly looks away, maybe to be polite. Polite about how he thinks his baking is garbage and how he doesn’t want to go anywhere near it.

“You should’ve made a Diet Coke ice cream, Lil’ J.” Geoff says with a laugh, and Jeremy nods wordlessly, then continues to scoop ice cream for his friends, trying not to show his disappointment.

Fucking Jack asking for coffee ice cream. It didn’t even occur to him that Ryan only stayed caffeinated through soda for a reason. Stupid Ryan with his wildly incorrect taste buds. Fucking hell.

“Hey Jeremy, what’s hard to make?” Lindsay asks, and Jeremy’s glad for the distraction.

“What do you mean?” He asks as he scoops her some ice cream.

“Like, is fruit hard?” She asks, and he shakes his head.

“In general, nah. Strawberries are hard.” He replies, and resists the urge to have some ice cream. He doesn’t want to succumb to emotional eating after a firm Haywood rejection.

“Why? Also this is amazing.” She says, pointing her spoon in appreciation.

“Yeah, fuck me, this is good.” Jack adds, and Michael laughs.

“Look how fucking pornographic Jack is getting over this.” Michael grins wickedly. “Over friggin ice cream -- delicious though, Lil’ J, it’s really good, you weird baking nerd.”

“Thanks.” He says curtly, and turns to Lindsay. “Strawberries are watery, they’re full of seeds, they turn everything gray--”

“That’s what I want.” Lindsay cuts in. “Strawberry anything.”

“‘Hey Jeremy, make the most difficult shit you can.’” Michael says, and Jeremy hears Ryan chuckle like a punch to the gut.

“Strawberry what?” He asks distractedly, and Lindsay shrugs.

“Strawberry anything, man.” She answers, and he sighs.

“Okay.” He answers simply. “Any other requests?”

He’s purposely thinking of Ryan, but he doesn’t dare look over to the other man; he doesn’t want to see whatever disgust that may reside on his features.

“Nah, I got my cookies.” Michael says.

“I got my pie.” Geoff adds. “From our baking loser.”

“And I have to take some of this to Caiti right now.” Jack grins as he reaches for a new cup. “Thanks Jeremy, she’s gonna love this.”

“What about you, Rye?” Michael asks, and everyone turns to look at him. “You haven’t made a demand yet.”

“Hey, I said I have to think about it.” Ryan says defensively. “All in due time.”

Jeremy takes that with more than a few grains of salt. Ryan’s just being polite, he doesn’t want anything from him. He wouldn’t eat a crumb of his food, not for a million dollars.

“You can think about it while Jeremy makes me a strawberry thing.” Lindsay says, and Jeremy nods silently again, trying not to let his dejection show. He puts the cover back onto the remaining ice cream, his eyes down and away from the crowd.

“Hey, when are we gonna sell Achievement Hunter oven mitts?” Michael asks, and Geoff howls. Jeremy stays silent. All this mockery might have been worth it if Ryan was a bigger fan of coffee.

“When the Achievement Hunter cupcake pan comes out.” Geoff answers. Well, maybe Ryan will be more keen on strawberries. He just has to figure out what kind of ‘strawberry thing’ to make.

“Is that coming same time as the little AH cookie cutters?” Kdin asks as he walks in.

“What would those even be, dick shapes?” Ryan muses, and Jeremy excuses himself to put the ice cream in the freezer.

He just needs to make something Ryan would actually like and hope that he even considers trying it. Strawberry something. He doesn’t want to make a full on cake, he’ll be teased. He’s already made Eton Mess so he should avoid something macerated. Cookies? Oh, yes. But he’d need freeze dried berries for that.

Amidst all that angst, he suddenly finds himself smiling. Ryan situation be damned, he now has an excuse to go to Trader Joe’s and spend shamelessly.

 

* * *

 

At Trader Joe’s, Jeremy buys the freeze dried strawberries he needs, then some chocolate, then resists some cookie butter whilst gritting his teeth and thinking of his diet and settles on getting some kefir for some smoothies. He can’t help but feel an incredible sense of determination; strawberry cookies or bust. Ryan’s affections or bust.


	6. Chapter 6

He makes the cookies as soon as he gets home from Trader Joe’s. Cookies are so easy, he can whip them up like clockwork. Cream butter and sugar, add eggs and vanilla, then mix in dry ingredients until incorporated.

This one’s just a slight variation. Crush the dried strawberries and mix with dry ingredients. Cream butter and sugar, add eggs, red food coloring, and a hint of lemon zest for some sweet lemonade vibes. Then stir in dry ingredients, throw it in the fridge for two hours, and go enjoy leg day at the gym.

When he returns, he preheats the oven, makes himself a smoothie, then fills a bowl with some sugar. He scoops the cookies nice and big, two tablespoons each, rolls them in the sugar, and places them on the baking sheet.

“These are the prettiest shade of pink ever.” Jeremy gushes, very glad he’s alone saying that. But he can’t help it, he loves when he makes something pretty.

He presses down the cookies to a third of an inch thick and throws them in the oven. He does this several times, and he’s left with a gorgeous batch of cookies that smell like heaven. Oh yes, he’ll definitely impress with these bad boys tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

“You fucking girl.” Michael taunts, and Jeremy sighs and hands Lindsay the most vibrant pink cookies he’d ever produced. Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have thought these would impress.

“Lindsay asked for strawberries. Strawberries are pink.” He answers as she takes one from the box and takes a bite.

“Pretty sure they’re lightish red.” Michael comments with a smirk.

“I thought you said strawberries turn everything gray.” Jack notes diligently, and Geoff’s nearly crying at that one.

“Well what am I supposed to do, have poor presentation?” Jeremy asks, and a round of absolute howling ensues. “Make ugly-ass cookies?”

“I tell ya Jay, if I weren’t married I’d be really interested in that pussy of yours.” Geoff says, his face redder than the cookies as he chokes on his laughter.

“Jesus.” Ryan laughs, scandalized, and Jeremy can’t bear to even look at him.

“Seriously though, these are good Jeremy, thank you.” Lindsay says with a full mouth. “They taste like strawberry lemonade.”

“Oh, what? Let me have one!” Michael reaches out and takes one, and when Geoff moves to do the same, Lindsay steps back.

“Nu-uh.” She shakes her head solemnly. “These are for me and the hubby only.”

That’s understandable, not wanting to share, because Jeremy knows those cookies are delicious, but he can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness knowing Ryan won’t have any, won’t even have the option. He has to find someone a little more generous to bake for, and find them quickly.

“Aww, when are you gonna get a hubby, Jeremy?” Geoff asks, batting his eyes, and Jeremy sighs helplessly.

“I’m tryin’, man.” Jeremy says in a tone that would be wily if it weren’t said so half-heartedly. Geoff gives him a confused look, them sobers up.

“Oh.” He says rather dumbly, then rushes out; “That’s okay. That’s cool.”

“I know it is.” Jeremy says, and he really doesn’t mean to be defensive, but his plans were thwarted (yes, thwarted, like a hero to a villain, a villain who controls people through delicious baked goods). And now their odd tension has attracted Lindsay’s attention.

“Wait, what?” She asks in genuine confusion, and Michael stops speaking as well and turns to him, and the room falls silent just as Gavin strolls in.

“What the hell have I just walked into?” Gavin asks with a laugh, which fades quickly into a perplexed look. “Guys?”

“It’s not a big deal.” Jeremy says, because really, for him it’s not, never has been.

“Oh!” Gavin lights up. “You’ve made cookies! Look how pink and lady-like--”

“Gavin!” Geoff splutters in a panic, and Gavin’s clearly more confused than ever.

“It’s fine.” Jeremy says, all ruffled now and ready to change the subject. “I’m gay and I bake pink cookies, haha.”

Gavin’s hand flies to his mouth in shock, looking stupidly comical.

“You’re gay?” He asks in a high pitched voice. “Since when?”

“What do you mean, since when, you idiot?” Michael asks. “Don’t worry about it!”

“Yeah, let him suck dicks on his own time.” Geoff says, and Jack stifles a laugh.

“Yeah, while he’s baking.” Lindsay snorts. “One hand on a whisk, the other on a dick, no biggie.”

“So the dick’s no biggie, or . . . ?” Jack asks with a grin, and Jeremy almost snorts, tense yet worn down, but before he can someone else speaks up.

“Can all of you shut the fuck up please?” Now that one’s the shocker, because it’s the voice of none other than Ryan Haywood.

Jeremy turns, surprised to see him absolutely fuming. Oh, he is pissed alright, and Jeremy, in a panic, thinks he’s about to be yelled at. He doesn’t even know what for, there’s no way Ryan could be mad at him because he’s gay, the older man’s too smart for that.

“Lay off, I mean it!” Ryan continues in his most authoritative tone. “It’s none of your goddamn business and it’s certainly not your place to insult a guy over what he likes!”

“Whoa--” Geoff begins, and Jeremy’s completely floored. “That is not--”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Ryan points his finger and Geoff visibly recoils. “I don’t want to hear another joke about being gay, being feminine, I don’t want to hear the slightest hint that there’s anything wrong with any of that again.”

Holy shit, Ryan is scary. Jeremy glances around to see he’s not the only one humbled into silence; even Michael can’t turn this one into a funny little quip. Lindsay’s holding a cookie with a single bite in it, gaping, Jack’s staring at his shoes, Gavin’s wide-eyed and stone faced.

“Now we’re all gonna sit down, pull ourselves together, and we’re gonna work on our shit like this never happened. Understand?” Ryan asks them and looks around.

They all glance to each other quite rapidly, and Gavin, with a meek expression, speaks up.

“Should I -- should I not ask him to bake something then?” He asks, seemingly terrified, and Jeremy glances over to Ryan to find him looking pointedly back at Jeremy. It’s up to him, after all, but how could he say no to doing what he loves most. Ridicule or not, if he’s asked to continue, he will continue.

“Of course, Gavin. I love to bake.” Jeremy says softly. “What would you like?”

“It’s not for me.” He says, speaking softly himself. “Ray’s coming tomorrow to do an episode of Sportsball, I don’t know what he likes. Something safe? Generic?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nods carefully. “I can bake for Ray.”

“Good. Let’s get back to work.” Ryan says, and Jeremy sits down.

The others do the same, and Jeremy wants to say something, to thank Ryan for his incredible and unexpected kindness, but he can’t make the words form in his throat. He’s a bundle of nerves, and in a room full of very tense friends, he’s suddenly anxious at the thought of speaking up.

It’s not until later, when he’s in the kitchen pulling a salad from the fridge, that Ryan approaches. He’s probably only there to get a Diet Coke, but Jeremy stops him anyway.

“Hey.” He says, and Ryan looks at him with just the most perfect blue eyes. “Thank you. For earlier.”

A shadow passes over his face, leaving him with a sullen expression.

“Don’t thank me.” Ryan says seriously. “I wasn’t just about to let them--”

“It’s fine though, really.” Jeremy cuts in. “I like comedy, they’re comedians. As long as it’s funny I’m fine.”

Ryan looks doubtful at that, but seemingly trusts in Jeremy and allows it.

“If anyone ever says something you don’t like, tell me.” He says in a threatening tone. “We’ll tag-team ‘em, kick their ass.”

“Tag-team? Now that’s gay, Rye.” Jeremy says pointedly, and Ryan gives him a begrudging smile. “I will though, thank you.”

Ryan looks away to open the fridge and grab, oh what a surprise, a Diet Coke, and Jeremy looks away as well, thinking the conversation is over, but then spots a smirk from the corner of his eye.

“You can’t hold a whisk and a dick at the same time anyway.” Ryan says slyly. “The motions going on would be like patting your head and rubbing your belly.”

Jeremy laughs at that.

“You underestimate my baking skills.” He quickly returns, and Ryan smiles.

“Well now I _have_ to put in a request.” He says, and walks away chuckling. Jeremy laughs lightly and goes to open his salad, but his hands are shaking as he tries to process the conversation.

Holy fuck, was that flirting? Was that genuine flirting with/from Ryan fucking Haywood? He needs to sit down, he’s so out of breath. What the hell just happened? Ryan goes from not caring about his baking to mentioning that he’d ask for something? And making gay dick jokes? Life is so weird and great.

He has to bake something that Ryan will actually try. Something for Ray -- thin, generous Ray. Once Ray decides to share, Ryan’ll beg for some form of baked good, and Jeremy can seduce him further from there. Not in a weird way, though, not as weird as he’s making it sound.

Now he just has to figure out what to make.

 

* * *

 

“As the biggest Achievement Hunter fan on Earth, of course I’m aware that Ray is from New York.” Jeremy says to the cat rubbing against his legs as he sets a grocery bag on the counter. “So what’s a classic New York dessert?”

Scooter meows.

“That’s right! Black and white cookies.” He says as he grabs a can of cat food. “Sponge-cake like cookies with half chocolate and half vanilla fondant on top. So good.”

He feeds his cat, then grabs one of his many prized baking books, The All-American Cookie Book, and flips to the black and whites.

“Alright, Nancy,” He says to the author as though she’s in the room, “Let’s do this shit.”

He sifts the dry ingredients, creams the butter, sugar and shortening, and adds the rest of the wet ingredients, save the sour cream. He adds half the flour mix, then the sour cream, then the rest of the flour.

“Goddamn, that cake technique.” Jeremy says dreamily, and punctuates this by wolf-whistling down at the bowl of dough. “Cream the stuff, add the dry, then the liquid, always start and end on the dry. Aww yeah.”

He then grabs a baking sheet, rolls out a few massive one-fourth of a cup cookies, and throws them in the oven. After that, it’s just a matter of waiting for the cookies to cool, quickly cooking up two different fondant frostings, one chocolate and one vanilla, and doing a careful job of spreading the fondants neatly, half and half.

“Damn, do these look good.” Jeremy says to himself.

When he’s finally done, he cleans up and lets himself relax. Relax, think about today’s flirtation, and hope for more to come.


	7. Chapter 7

When Jeremy walks into work the next day and sets down the white box of cookies on his desk, he can feel the hesitation in the room. The desire to poke fun is present, but a few shifting glances at Ryan keeps their mouths shut. Always nice to gain a perk.

But when unaware Barbara comes in and asks what’s in the box, of course a joke or two has to be dealt.

“Jeremy put on his child’s size apron and made something for Ray.” Geoff answers her question from the other side of the room.

“Yeah, he somehow reached up to the oven and baked something.” Gavin supplies.

“What do you mean, somehow? He has a ladder, Gavin, think.” Michael tuts at him, and the tension’s gone when Ryan chuckles.

Okay, back to the short jokes. He can live with that.

“I made black and white cookies, they’re a classic New York dessert.” He informs her and lifts the lid.

“Oh my gosh, these are so cute!” Barbara gasps as she peers into the box. “Jeremy, I didn’t know you could bake!”

“Yeah, he’s been baking for the whole office, now everyone but Ryan’s had something made special.” Gavin answers.

“Ryan.” Barbara mockingly scolds him. “We’ll have to sic Meg on you.”

Michael laughs as Gavin crosses his arms.

“I have to think about it.” Ryan replies simply. “I said I would.”

“Well, make a decision, Ryan!” Geoff hounds him as Jack watches on with amusement.

“Wow Jeremy, do you know how many girls you could get with this?” Barb asks excitedly, and from the corner of his eye, Jeremy sees Gavin slam his palm to his face.

“Barbara, get out of here, we’re trying to work.” Jack pipes up rather helpfully, and Barbara laughs.

“Fine, but I’m demanding something for the podcast next week.” She says, then reconsiders. “Politely requesting, if that’s alright.”

“That’s more than alright.” Jeremy smiles easily. “What would you like?”

Barbara poses as though in deep thought, then grins.

“Surprise me.” She says, waggling her eyebrows. “And it better be good.”

“Oh, if Lil’ J’s making it, it’s gotta be good.” Michael assures her. “He’s a regular Julia Child.”

“Julia Child was a chef, not a baker.” Jeremy begins, noting Geoff’s snickering. “Don’t we have a Go! to film?”

“Yeah, get outta here so we can start, Barb.” Geoff stands, and she departs. “Hey, nobody move, I have something to say first.”

He turns to look at Jeremy the same time everyone else does, and Jeremy, under the weight of so many stares, suddenly feels like he’s missed some sort of rehearsal. Geoff’s wearing a serious expression, Gavin looks shockingly calm, and Michael’s astute. 

“Jeremy, we need you to understand right now that we all love you, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay.” Geoff starts, and Jeremy realizes what’s going on, and can’t help but get a little sappy at these idiots. “And at no point were we harassing you, or making fun of you, or anything like that.”

“Well, we were making fun of you.” Michael says, and Geoff dons a weary expression. “But it was in the loving way we usually do.”

“Yeah, it was all fun.” Gavin adds. “And you should tell us if we ever get too awful about it.”

“I told him to tell me.” Ryan announces to them suddenly, his tone dark. “So I can kill someone for him.”

Jack looks almost genuinely frightened while Jeremy fails to hold back a grin. Geoff widens his eyes and simply nods.

“Jesus, okay, well, I guess it would be well deserved.” Geoff says. “Look, Jay, we just wanna know if there’s anything we should be doing, any groveling--”

“It’s fine, Geoff.” Jeremy cuts in. “Like I told Ryan, as long as it’s funny, not too invasive, I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” Geoff nods, looking relieved. “But what about keeping you in the closet? How does this work?”

Jeremy’s taken aback at that.

“I’m not closeted, Geoff, I just keep my shit to myself.” He says, though not unkindly. “If I were straight you’d just call it private.”

“Well how fucking private are you trying to be?” Michael asks, and Jack snorts. “We don’t know what to cover up, what kind of network of spies and espionage we should be pulling here!”

Jeremy laughs a little, and he can see the relief on Michael’s face that they’re getting along alright.

“It’s not that complicated.” He answers. “Make the jokes you make about how I don’t know movies. Don’t run around screaming about it is all.”

“Okay, we can do that.” Geoff says respectfully. “Is the air cleared now? We’re all good now?”

“We love you, Jeremy.” Gavin shouts from the other end of the room.

“Aww.” Jack says. “Shut up, Gavin, we have shit to do.”

“Okay, someone move this mic and get the VR headset.” Geoff commands.

“Can’t believe you guys thought I was in the closet.” Jeremy says with a grin. “I’m just quiet is all.”

“He’s only dropped a million hints, too.” Ryan says with a roll of his eyes as he shifts around some paperwork.

“Rye, you wanna do the instructions or the VR headset?” Gavin asks, walking over.

“Either, I like it both ways.” Ryan says, and spares a sly glance at Jeremy before everyone in the room stands and starts moving around, getting to work.

Holy fuck. Apparently that blatantly bisexual pun is missed by everyone else in the room, but Jeremy almost fucking faints on the spot. Ryan, that devious bisexual bastard, is dropping hints! It’s like an evil genius’ way of flirting! And holy fuck, isn’t Ryan a legitimate evil genius? Does that mean that Ryan Haywood is fucking flirting with him?

Jeremy spends the next few hours in a light-headed haze. Even as Ray shows up and reunites with the other Achievement Hunters, Jeremy’s still dumbfounded.

“Hey, numb-nuts, don’t you have something to show our old friend over here?” Geoff calls over to Jeremy, and he nods and grabs the box.

“Oh, your fat ass is gonna love this, Ray.” Michael snickers, and Ray looks at Jeremy curiously.

“Ah, is it food? Bring it the fuck over here.” He says, and Jeremy hands him the box.

“It’s just a little something I whipped up.” He says bashfully, because now there’s a new person here to tease and he doesn’t want to reveal too much of his baking-inspired glee.

“Is that literal?” Jack mumbles, and Geoff snorts. Ray opens the box immediately, and his mouth goes into an ‘oh’ shape. He looks up at Jeremy, beaming.

“Black and whites? I can’t get these anywhere!” Ray says, delightfully surprised. “Thanks, man!”

“No problem.” Jeremy answers as he swells up with pride. Nothing better than a happy customer.

“Okay, all of you guys have to try these.” Ray says, and sets the box down on the closest desk. “Me fucking first though, let’s get our priorities straight.”

Everyone grabs a cookie immediately, and though Jeremy’s never lived in New York, he imagines that looking around and seeing people decide which side of the cookie to eat first is a favorite pastime. Ray bites into the chocolate, Michael the vanilla, Geoff goes down the middle. And wait, why is Ryan not holding a cookie, damnit?

“Oh man, I missed these.” Ray grins. “You were right, my fat ass is in heaven.”

Michael chuckles.

“This is a solid cookie, Lil’ J.” He says. “Obviously I prefer the rainbows, but this is a solid cookie.”

“Yeah, you really made this?” Ray asks, and when Jeremy nods, Ray laughs. “Pretty gay.”

“That’s kinda the point.” Jeremy answers, and Ray doubles over with laughter as Gavin starts choking on his cookie. Behind him, Ryan claps him on the back.

“Not having any, Rye?” Jack asks as Geoff howls with laughter.

“No, they’re Ray’s. And they’re huge.” Ryan says, his tone polite, but Jeremy can still feel his heart sink in his chest.

“Yeah, if he has two he’ll be full for a week.” Michael says. “Just fucking take one, you haven’t had anything yet.”

Clearly Jeremy isn’t the only one who’s noticed this, and Ryan finds himself under more watchful eyes than intended.

“Look, I don’t want to mooch off of anyone else.” He says with a voice full of purpose. “I want something made just for me, I just have to figure out the perfect thing to ask for.”

“Ask for peach cobbler, you Georgian fool.” Geoff says, and Gavin nods.

“What’s another southern thing, banana pudding with the little cookies?” Gavin asks.

“Nilla Wafers.” Jack supplies.

“Ask for that!” Gavin insists, but Ryan only gives him a look of dismissal.

“No.” Ryan waves him off. “It has to be perfect. It has to be.”

Jeremy’s not sure what to make of this. Is Ryan just stalling, trying to grin and bear it as long as he can without having to eat anything he makes? Maybe Jeremy has read too far into some of these signs, and the affection truly is as one sided as he originally thought it to be. Or maybe he’s shy about not liking sweets. Maybe he’s gluten free, or oh god no, maybe he’s diabetic and they can never be together.

“Do you want something low sugar? Do you need it gluten-free?” Jeremy asks weakly, and when Ryan shakes his head, he lowers his voice. “Are you secretly vegan?”

Geoff basically falls over laughing, and Ryan’s nearly in tears as well.

“Look, just make a decision.” Michael says. “And soon, or we’ll make it for you.”

“Or we’ll make Jeremy make it for you.” Gavin adds, and Jack nods.

“Jeremy will fucking decide if you don’t, Ryan.” Jack warns. “So you better get a move on.”

Ryan gives Jeremy an uncertain sort of look, then turns back to Ray and begins a new conversation. Okay, so he’s not gluten free, and he’s not a vegan. That, Jeremy could accommodate. But stalling? Waiting for ages, requesting nothing at all? The others are right about that; if Ryan doesn’t decide what he wants soon, he’ll have to decide for him.


	8. Chapter 8

“Nuh. Name. Oh. Bars. Nanaimo bars. Am I even saying this right?” Jeremy asks Scooter over his shoulder, and turns to see the cat give him a blank expression. He looks back to his cookbook.

“Well, they’re apparently a Canadian favorite. And they certainly look good.” Jeremy says. “Even if Barb doesn’t recognize it, she’ll still like it.”

Scooter jumps up on the counter, and Jeremy lifts him down with a sigh.

“You realize if you ever got cat hair in something I baked, you’d get a new home, right?” He asks the cat, then feels bad and shakes his head. “Love ya Scooter. Let’s get to fucking work.”

He melts butter, sugar, and chocolate in a bain marie, then throws in crushed graham crackers, chopped almonds, and shredded coconut, and presses this all down in an eight by eight pan to form a crust. He throws that into the fridge and cleans out his bowl.

He’s glad that he had a few days to make these, because even though he could’ve gone to the grocery store and bought instant vanilla pudding, he’d rather do it the authentic way and buy custard powder online, which of course is readily available in Canada, but not the United States, and especially not Texas.

So he grabs his room temperature butter and creams it with confectioner’s sugar, custard powder, and heavy cream, then spreads it over the crust and pops it back into the fridge. All he has to do from there is melt chocolate with butter and apply it over the top, then cut the whole thing into squares, and boom, Nanaimo bars.

“Good work, Scooter, we’ve done well.” Jeremy says to the cat once he’s done cleaning. The only issue now is knowing these are for the podcast, meaning Ryan won’t take a single bite.

The whole office has spent the last few days asking Ryan what he wants, making suggestions to him, asking him what he likes, and though Jeremy’s learned some things (he doesn’t like banana pudding, and he thinks it would be a crime to ask for peach cobbler when peaches are out of season), he hasn't learned what he’ll be making the man. It seems that he may end up choosing for himself after all.

 

* * *

 

“Jeremy, I’m guessing we can’t have whatever’s in that box in the fridge.” Gavin says as Jeremy sits down to work the next day.

“Don’t touch that, that’s for the podcast.” Jeremy answers, and Gavin hums.

“Not for Ryan?” Caleb asks, and Ryan groans.

“I’m thinking about it!” He answers, but clearly he’s tired of being prodded.

“Why is it taking so long to think of, though?” Jack asks from his own chair. “It’s just a batch of cookies or whatever. Gavin asked for ‘specks of black stuff.’”

“Yeah, and it was amazing.” Gavin adds. “Just name a flavor and he’ll do it, just like Lindsay. She only said strawberry, for Christ’s sakes.”

“I don’t want it to be thoughtless.” Ryan responds. “I can’t just ask for something random.”

“Well I don’t understand it.” Caleb shrugs. “He can do whatever you like.”

“Exactly! He’s genuinely talented. I’m not going to waste that on just anything.” Ryan says, and Jeremy turns away as he feels his face grow warm from a blush. He can’t quite tell if Ryan’s just being nice or if the praise is real, but if it is, he’s flattered.

“I think you’re making a big deal out of it.” Gavin says, and Ryan splutters.

“No I’m not! You’re making a big deal out of me choosing!” He says defensively, and Jeremy glances over to find that now it’s his turn to blush. Interesting.

Geoff steps in then, gazes over to everyone standing around, and sighs.

“Why is it you people are never working when I walk in here?” He asks, and Caleb quickly takes off.

“We were making fun of Ryan.” Gavin answers as he returns to his desk, and Geoff nods.

“That’s acceptable.”

“Hey!” Ryan glares at him, but Geoff pays no mind.

“Oh shut up and tell Jeremy what you want him to bake already.” Geoff snaps, and Jack laughs.

“What do you think we were just insulting him over?” Jack asks, and Geoff nods appreciatively.

“Seriously Lil’ J, it’s time to choose yourself.” Geoff says as Michael walks in. “Beat the fucker to it.”

“Yeah, actually, this is an intervention.” Michael declares. “Ryan, we’re taking this off your plate.”

“There’s a joke in there somewhere.” Jack muses, but Ryan merely tenses his brows.

“I’d prefer to think of something to ask myself.” Ryan says slowly, but Michael waves him off.

“Too fucking bad, you had your chance. Lil’ J, it’s your task now. Make something for Ryan and tell him to shove it up his pie hole.” Michael says, and Ryan gives him a grimace. 

“If Ryan wants to pick, he can pick.” Jeremy answers, unsure. He doesn’t want to force something on him that he won’t eat.

“And if you don’t want to wait to make me something, you can pick.” Ryan replies, and it’s clear that they’re both uncertain, both politely stepping around some bigger issue. There’s a pause in the room.

“Whatever, you guys are weird.” Geoff says after a moment. “Settle this between yourselves, we’ve got shit to do.”

Well now it’s weird. He wants to bake something, but Ryan doesn’t want to give him any help. He has no idea what to make of things.

He spends the whole day trying to figure out what to do, getting so stressed that he falls behind on his work. But instead of leaving, he figures that since he’s already late, he should go watch the podcast gang eat the Nanaimo bars, and strolls up to the set just as Gus is naming sponsors.

“So I’ve got a question.” Burnie says immediately. “What’s in this box, what’s this?”

“We can eat it.” Gavin answers promptly, garnering Burnie’s attention.

“Yeah, I asked Jeremy to make something for the podcast since everyone else is getting so well fed.” Barbara says as she leans over to the box.

“What is it?” Gus asks, and she opens it up, studies the contents, and suddenly beams.

“Oh my god!” She gasps, and Jeremy smiles from his corner of the room. “Nanaimo bars! I love these!”

“Na-what?” Gavin asks as she takes one out.

“They’re so good. Chocolate, coconut, almonds --” She takes a bite and closes her eyes to savor the moment, then looks at the camera. “They’re Canadian as all hell too, way to do your research Jeremy.”

“What kind of name is that for a chocolate bar thing?” Burnie asks with a chuckle, and before Jeremy can hear a response, someone clears their throat behind him. He turns to see Ryan standing in the shadows with him.

“Oh.” He says, caught off guard, and Ryan smiles.

“They like what you made.” He points to the group as Gavin takes a bite of his and grins.

“Yeah.” Jeremy says lamely, and feels rather stupid at that, but Ryan only grins again.

“I do want you to make me something.” He says, and Jeremy’s heart begins to pound. “I just don’t know what.”

“You -- you can choose yourself, just ignore the guys.” Jeremy says, and Ryan glances away.

“Yeah, but, I don’t know if I can. But I want something, ya know?” He says, then looks back to Jeremy. Jeremy really isn’t sure why Ryan can’t choose if he’s making it clear that he does actually want a baked good. Maybe what he said before, that he didn’t want to waste Jeremy’s talent, is the truth. Maybe it’s something else he can’t quite put his finger on. 

“You choose.” Ryan says after a slight thoughtful pause, and Jeremy gapes.

“Really? Are you sure?” He asks with uncertainty, and Ryan nods firmly.

“Yes. You’ll make the right decision.” Ryan says, and gives him a kind grin, more courtesy than happiness.

“Okay.” Jeremy says slowly. “Day after tomorrow, I’ll have something for you.”

He smiles himself now as he realizes the situation. He finally gets to bake something for Ryan! Sure, he has to think of it himself and has the incredible pressure of getting the idea, let alone the execution just perfect, but he gets to bake! For Ryan! He’s so unbearably excited.

“I’m glad.” He replies with a charming grin, then seemingly shakes himself. “I’m heading out. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Have a good night.” Jeremy says, and Ryan grins again.

“Of course I will. I just talked to you, didn’t I? That’s enough to have a good week.” He says, and walks away.

Jeremy can only stand there, dumbfounded, until he hears his name again, and turns back to look at the podcast.

“--Told him he could get babes, Barbara, really? He is gay as hell.” Gus says, and Jeremy sees that he’s getting the subtlety he’s been aiming for.

“What, no, Jeremy’s not gay.” Burnie protests. “You insist you have this amazing gaydar--”

“I do!”

“Jeremy, though? Come on.” Burnie says with a tone of dismissal.

“I actually feel like it’s none of our damn business.” Gavin says, then takes a sip of his beer. Jeremy smiles to himself. “A man can’t have his privacy?”

“If he wants to be private, he can be private, then, okay?” Burnie settles. “But wherever you are Jeremy, these are fucking tasty.”

 

* * *

 

Although it’s not mentioned much the next day, Jeremy spends some time deep in thought regarding the baking situation with Ryan. He doesn’t know what the other man likes and dislikes, but one thing does come to mind towards the end of the day, and by the time he gets off work, he’s ready and excited to make it.

Brownies. Ryan used to bring them in all the time, and Jeremy’s brownie recipe is the perfect amount of chocolatey goodness. He’d already made them for Jack’s ice cream, but he can do it again now, because Ryan never tasted that anyway.

As soon as he gets home that day, he sets up his bain marie and melts semi-sweet and unsweetened chocolate together with butter. When it’s all melted, he lets it cool as he beats eggs and sugar until they’re frothy, then adds vanilla extract and the chocolate. Finally, he adds the flour, pours it all into an eight by eight pan, and bakes it off.

Oh man, are those brownies gorgeous. Perfect tissue paper top, moist and dense, tall as well. He can’t wait to show them to Ryan. Things are finally about to get sweet.


	9. Chapter 9

“Morning, Lindsay.” Jeremy greets as he steps into the office, white box in hand.

“Morning, chef.” She replies with a grin, and Michael looks over.

“You made some goodies?” He asks, and Jon looks over curiously.

“Keep those away from me.” He declares, and Jeremy nods. “I’m sticking to my Nature Box.”

“Not a problem, they’re not for you guys.” Jeremy says and walks past the trio to his desk.

“Who are they for?” Jack asks conversationally.

“Ryan.” Jeremy answers, hiding a smile.

“Fucking finally, holy shit!” Michael yells. “Where is he, is he in yet?”

“He’s in alright, he’s talking to Meg.” Lindsay answers.

“Hey-ooo.” Geoff sounds out upon hearing that last statement as he walks in, with Gavin trailing just behind.

“Is this another weird Achievement Hunter thing?” Jon asks. “I’m stepping over to the side, I’m hiding.”

He steps back as Geoff raises his brows.

“What’s going on?” He asks, and Jeremy opens his mouth, but Michael interrupts before he can respond.

“Jeremy just got me out of doing On The Spot, that’s what’s going on.” Michael says, and Geoff nods respectfully.

“What, no he--” Jon protests, and Geoff cuts in.

“Good work, kid, I knew we kept you around for a reason.” Geoff says, then glances over at the telltale white box on Jeremy’s desk. “Ooh, what’s that?”

“You’re still doing it.” Jon mutters, folding his arms.

“We’re about to do our weird Achievement Hunter shit Jon, don’t mess with us.” Lindsay responds in an almost threatening tone, and he shrinks back a little bit.

“That’s for Ryan!” Jack answers, tired of all the banter, and Geoff looks delighted.

“Oooh!” He says again, and Lindsay smiles behind him. “Well, go get him!”

“Who’s getting him?” Jack asks excitedly.

“I’ll get him.” Jeremy volunteers, his whole body humming with a nervous anticipation.

“Tell him we need him for something.” Gavin says, and Michael nods.

“Yeah, tell him he needs to build something in Minecraft or some awful shit like that.” Michael adds.

“Nah, let’s get elaborate. Who can create a riddle right now?” Lindsay asks, and Michael gives her a fond grin.

“I’ll just go get him.” Jeremy says with a roll of his eyes and takes off. Holy crap, it’s finally happening. All he has to do is give him the brownies and make him love them, and by extension, love him, and then get asked out on a perfect date and then totally get married. No pressure.

He spots Ryan just as he steps away from Meg and waves to him, and they both step aside.

“Today’s the day.” Ryan says immediately, his voice low and borderline flirty. Jeremy’s thrilled that he remembered, or was maybe even looking forward to this.

“Yeah, everyone in the office is ready to throw a party.” Jeremy says with a nervous grin. “Is that okay? That they’re all waiting for you?”

“It’s fine. Tell me what it is, though.” He urges, and Jeremy plays at being scandalized.

“No!” He replies as though the thought of it is a travesty. “Didn’t you ask for a surprise?”

Ryan rolls his eyes.

“I asked for you to choose. I hate getting gifts and having to react in front of a billion people.” He says, and Jeremy nods in understanding.

“For the record, we don’t employ a billion people, that’s just the noise level we’re at.” He says, and Ryan laughs. “It’s brownies.”

The smile instantly fades from Ryan’s face, and for a quick second Jeremy literally wants to throw up. Ryan looks away quickly and rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“I -- uh.” Is his helpful explanation as to why exactly he’s rejecting Jeremy right now, but he looks guilty and upset and so terribly pitiful that Jeremy’s gut reaction is _oh shit, what have I done._

“I’m sorry.” Jeremy says, confused and feeling like a total fuck-up. “I don’t know--”

“No, it’s not your fault. I just --” Ryan looks back to him with a pained expression. “Why brownies?”

“You used to bring them in sometimes, like for the charity live stream last year?” Jeremy explains, unsure of himself now.

“Yeah, my dad made them.” Ryan says, and Jeremy realizes what he’s done, and can’t help but voice his next thoughts out loud.

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah.” Ryan answers dejectedly. “But it’s not your fault.”

“I’m so sorry, Ryan--” Jeremy begins, but Ryan shakes his head firmly.

“It’s not. Your fault.” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “It’s just -- now the whole office is waiting for me.”

“You could just explain--” Jeremy starts, but Ryan interrupts again.

“Explain what? That what you picked was too sentimental, that I don’t want yours to be better like I know they will be?” He asks, and Jeremy blushes. “You’re so talented, but I want to remember my father’s as the best.”

Jeremy’s more than understanding, and he feels like kind of a jackass, despite Ryan’s assurances otherwise. Now he knows he has to fix things.

“If you don’t want to tell them, that’s fine.” Jeremy says finally. “I’ll just tell them I realized I did something wrong and you can’t eat them.”

“Then they’ll try them.” Ryan points out, which is true, the gluttonous bastards.

Jeremy thinks a moment longer, then looks up to him firmly.

“No one can try them if I drop them.” He says, thinking fast as he puts the pieces together. “Just walk in with me, I’ll walk over to the box, and hey, accidents happen.”

Ryan’s eyes shone.

“You’d be willing to do that for me?” He asks in a soft tone, and Jeremy nods without hesitation.

“As long as you play along.” Jeremy replies, and Ryan nods. “Let’s go.”

They take the trek to the office, and Jeremy steps in first, immediately spotting a camera pointing right at him. Of course his huge failure will be caught for RT Life.

“Ryan, finally! You leave the goddamn building?” Geoff asks as Caleb points the camera to him, then back to Ryan.

“I tried!” He exclaims, and Michael snorts. “But I heard there was a surprise in here for me.”

“Oh, way to ruin it, Jeremy.” Jack scolds.

“This is why we needed a riddle.” Lindsay chimes in as Jon looks on in amused confusion.

“Okay, okay, let me grab it.” Jeremy says, and walks across the room.

His heart’s pounding in his ears. He’s all tensed up and starting to sweat and just hoping it doesn’t show. He reaches his desk, grabs the box by one end, and very expertly fumbles it. Lid open, it topples, half to the ground, half to a conveniently placed and very foul smelling garbage can. He couldn’t have done a better job.

There was an explosion of sound and movement in the room. Jack groans and slams his headset on his desk. Michael and Lindsay both yell unintelligible phrases that are no doubt insulting. Jon squeals and hides his face with his hands. Geoff makes a noise like a dying goat, and Gavin literally just screams as Caleb runs over immediately for a close-up.

“You idiot!” Michael cries out. “You fool!”

Geoff dissolves into laughter now, and falls to his knees. Jeremy glances over to Ryan to see him feigning surprise very well, his brows raised and hands over his mouth, and has to hand it to the man; he can act like hell.

“I can’t believe this!” Gavin yells as Jack bends down to check on a very shaky Geoff.

“Oh my god, that was the dumbest thing that ever happened!” Lindsay yells at him as Michael brings a hand to his own forehead in shock.

“What is wrong with you people?” Jon questions in a hoarse voice, and raises his hands in anguish.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Caleb asks Jeremy as he lifts the camera to show his face.

“. . . I fucked up, man.” He utters in a convincing tone of shame, mostly because it isn’t all acting and he’s still pretty miserable about the whole situation.

Jack dissolves into laughter, and Caleb turns the camera to show Ryan quietly chuckling.

“That’s okay, Jeremy.” He manages between the laughter, and Gavin squeaks.

“It’s not okay!” Michael yells. “Lil’ J, you moron!”

“You don’t get a pardon!” Lindsay roars. “Clean this up!”

Jeremy sighs and moves to pick up the brownies as Gavin helps Geoff to his feet.

“That was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen!” Geoff says, red faced.

“I’m terrified right now.” Jon says, looking pretty honest about it, too. “Fuck it, I’ll find someone else for On The Spot.”

“I’m sorry, Ryan.” Jeremy says in a low voice, and Michael cackles.

“That’s okay.” Ryan repeats, and Lindsay and Jon make a simultaneous ‘awww’ sound.

“But I’m free!” Michael says with a glance to Jon. “Freedom!”

“So what now, are ya gonna do it over?” Jack asks, and Jeremy feels like a deer in headlights for a moment, then quickly plays it off.

“I uh, I already promised I’d make something for Matt tomorrow.” Jeremy answers.

“Wow, so he’s not even gonna fix it for you, Rye.” Gavin exclaims, and Ryan waves it off.

“It’s fine. It’s fate, really. Now I can choose for myself.” Ryan says with a quick glance to Jeremy, and he can’t help but give a barely noticeable nod in agreement. 

It is fate, in a stupid, weird way. And just by agreeing to ask for something later, Ryan’s basically telling him that it’s not over between them. In his own infuriatingly subtle way.

“I’m just uh, I’m just gonna get back to work now.” Jeremy says, and Geoff wipes tears from his eyes.

“Jesus, what a great day.” Michael laughs and returns to his desk as Jon waves and takes his leave.

Well, at least they’re all enjoying this.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy walks into the B-Team’s office later on, hoping for Matt, only to find the place deserted. Wherever Matt is, Steffie’s taken the day off, Caleb’s filming somewhere, and who knows where the rest of these wonderful idiots have run off to.

“What a ghost town.” Jeremy says as he walks further in to see if he missed anyone.

“You’re telling me.” A voice says behind him, and Jeremy nearly jumps out of his skin. “I knew it would be, we’re busy today.”

“Ryan, you scared the shit out of me.” Jeremy says as he turns around, and Ryan closes the door behind them. “What’s up?”

Ryan gives him an uncertain look, and Jeremy feels a weight in his gut. Maybe he’ll tell him not to bake anything at all. Maybe he’s about to get rejected, hard.

“I just wanted to thank you.” He says, and Jeremy feels slightly more at ease. “I know you take your baking seriously, even if you try to joke or shake off the teasing. The fact that you willingly destroyed something you -- you worked to create . . . “

Ryan trails off, and Jeremy feels his face grow warm with a blush.

“It just means a lot to me, is all.” Ryan finishes. “It shows me how much you care.”

“It’s not a problem.” Jeremy replies, his voice soft. “Not for you.”

“I really do want to choose.” Ryan assures him. “And now you’ve given me more time.”

Jeremy gives him a soft smile. Ryan could point out that the extra time came from Jeremy’s massive fuck up, but he doesn’t, and that’s what makes him so sweet. Reassuring people, willing to overlook mistakes, never wanting to hurt the feelings of others. Fuck, Jeremy is head over heels for a saint.

“Well, yeah, did what I had to do.” Jeremy grins. “Thanks for playing along.”

“No problem. I love role play.” Ryan responds with, oh holy shit, a wink, and Jeremy goes weak at the knees. 

He blushes even further and splutters as he searches for a reply, and Ryan’s grin widens.

“I’ll let you know when I figure out what I’d like.” He says. “And hopefully you’ll get just as flustered -- it looks cute on you.”

And with that, he strolls out of the room, and Jeremy has to literally pull a chair over and sit down to deal with whatever the fuck just happened. Real flirting! Genuine flirting! Jeremy standing there like an idiot whilst being flirted at! Oh my god, this is too much. Not literally though, he’ll take it all and more, but damn, this is too much.

He needs to find Matt. The sooner he gets the next thing out of the way, the sooner he can get to Ryan’s.


	10. Chapter 10

“Something fancy as all dicks. Something a guy in a top hat would eat.”

Jeremy’s giving Matt a ride home and regretting his earlier lie of ‘oh yeah I promised him something by tomorrow, which unfortunately means I can’t re-bake the mistake I just baked and willingly destroyed in front of all of you guys.’ And he can’t tell stupid Matt what’s going on without it getting out to the whole B-Team (he’s the worst gossip ever, don’t even remind Jeremy of the time he confessed to Matt that his favorite show is Jane The Virgin) so he just has to genuinely ask and create whatever he gets as an answer.

“French!” Matt adds. “It should be French, that’s the fancy stuff.”

“I can work with that.” Jeremy says. “Do you actually know any French pastries?”

“No, but you do.” He says, and Jeremy nods begrudgingly. “Name a cake, I want cake.”

“A Charlotte.” Jeremy says, and Matt tilts his head.

“What’s in that?”

“Custard--”

“Nope! Next.” He says, and Jeremy smiles.

“Dacquoise?” He asks, and Matt shakes his head.

“You know, that’s my favorite Harry Potter character, but I’m gonna pass.” He says, and Jeremy laughs. “What have you got with chocolate? Maybe coffee?”

“Opera cake.” Jeremy supplies. “Ganache, espresso syrup and buttercream. In layman’s terms, it’s kinda like French tiramisu.”

“Oh, I get down for tiramisu.” Matt says, intrigued. “Okay, make me a soap opera cake.”

“Okay.” Jeremy says, then parks his car in front of his friend’s apartment. “Now get the hell out, I have baking to do.”

 

* * *

 

“Why did I name something difficult with a million steps?” Jeremy asks Scooter as he scoops some food into his bowl. “Why did I name something that takes so damn long? Am I an idiot?”

Scooter’s more interested in the food than this conversation, so Jeremy decides to get started. He preheats the oven, pulls out his food processor, and grinds up some almonds until they turn to meal, then sifts them. Then he beats eggs with a handheld mixer for a few minutes until they’re frothy and tosses the almond flour in along with some confectioner’s sugar. He sifts in only three tablespoons of cake flour, just to get the dough tender, and folds it in with a spatula and pushes the bowl aside.

He cleans the beaters and whips up some egg whites with sugar and cream of tartar, then folds it into the batter, and pours it all into a large pan, so the cake is thin, maybe about a quarter of an inch.

“So hot.” He says, to a bunch of fucking cake batter. “You are just the sexiest.”

He puts the pan into the oven and sets a timer.

“Okay, time for the syrup.” Jeremy says to himself but not his cat, because who is he kidding, Scooter only cares when Jeremy lets him lick a spoon, and that’s not happening when he’s baking for someone else.

He makes a simple sugar syrup with water in a saucepan on the stovetop, then stirs in espresso and some cognac. Then he pulls the cake from the oven, lets it cool for ten minutes, and takes it out of the pan to let it cool further. From there, he has to wait awhile, and he decides to use his time wisely by cleaning, working out, and then . . . still daydreaming about Ryan. Damnit. When will he learn.

Beautiful, wonderful Ryan, who’s apparently kind of into him and very into role-play. What an amazing world to live in. Freedom and justice and a hot bisexual nerd batting his lashes at him and flirting like there’s no tomorrow. Brilliant.

He decides to return to baking before he can get too far deep. He makes a syrup by putting sugar and water into a saucepan and boils until it’s all bubbling and foaming, the soft ball stage. While that’s happening, he beats egg yolks, then mixes in espresso and drizzles in the simple syrup. Then he adds a full stick of butter, piece by piece, until it’s smooth and creamy.

Finally, to make a glaze, he melts butter and chocolate together and puts it aside to cool off. He slices the cake into a generous single serving square, pokes a few holes in it with a fork, then brushes it with the espresso syrup using a silicone pastry brush, and then spreads the coffee buttercream. Another piece of cake, more syrup, and then the glaze. Yet another piece of cake, the rest of the syrup, and the remaining buttercream, then he throws it in the fridge to firm up.

It’s pretty late now, but Jeremy feels a bit like he’s just been hanging out with friends and enjoying himself, not doing all this difficult work. He enjoys it endlessly, after all, so of course the exhaustion he’s meant to be feeling isn’t there. It’s moments like these that make him want to throw his diet out the window and bake every single night, but he knows that once he stops breathing in the cake fumes he’ll be in a better mindset.

He pulls out the cake a half hour later, reheats the glaze a little, and tops it off, then gently places it in its white cardboard box.

Time for bed, and tomorrow, it would be time to cover his ass with this cake of lies.

 

* * *

 

“Matthew.” He calls into the B-Team office, and Matt looks up at him.

“Oprah cake?” He answers back in a hopeful tone, and Jeremy chuckles.

“Sure.” He says, and lifts up the box. “Want me to throw it in the fridge for you?”

“Yes, please.” Matt nods. “Thanks man, you brought me my lunch.”

“Please eat a vegetable.” Jeremy answers, exasperated, but leaves the room anyway.

He crosses the main office and walks over to the kitchen, and meets eyes with Ryan and Meg. Around everyone else, they keep it casual, and Ryan’s only ever gotten more intimate when no one else is around, so it’s clear that they’re keeping things hush hush, which Jeremy, private as he is, is more than happy with.

“Hey Jeremy!” Meg smiles. “Ryan was just telling me about all your baking escapades.”

“All good things, I hope?” Jeremy asks only half-jokingly as he puts the box in the fridge. 

“Of course.” Ryan answers smoothly. “I haven’t tasted any of it yet, but I’ve told Meg about every single recipe, how good they all look.”

“Clearly you’re talented.” She compliments him. “Gavin was raving about that -- what was it? Eating mess?”

Jeremy laughs.

“Eton, it’s an English town.” He explains, and she giggles at her mistake.

“And Barb really liked the Canadian thing you made her, so I’m just impressed through others.” She says cheerily, then points to the fridge. “What did you make today?”

“I made opera cake for Matt.” He answers, and is about to explain what it is when her face lights up.

“Oh! I’ve had that, it’s really good!” Meg says, then gives him a sneaky look. “Hey, Jeremy? Would you mind maybe taking a request?”

“My plate’s free, yeah.” Jeremy says, and Ryan snorts. “Just tell me what and when.”

“Well, you know what’s really cute and I really like?” She asks, and gets so giddy that she doesn’t wait for him to respond. “Macarons! Can you make those?”

“Sure.” He answers easily. “When?”

“How about for The Patch?” She asks, then frowns. “Is tomorrow too soon? We could always do next week.”

“I should get off early today, actually.” Jeremy replies. “Got any flavors in mind?”

“Nah, just do whatever’s easy.” Meg smiles earnestly. “Oh, I have actual work to do. Talk later?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow with some cookies.” Jeremy grins, and she waves and takes off, leaving him alone with Ryan.

Before he can say a word, Ryan takes a step closer, just a little too close for regular old colleagues, and eyes him up and down.

“Raving about me, huh.” Jeremy says with a smirk, and Ryan quirks his brow.

“Well, how could I not? You know, I saw some fan call you ‘Lil’ J The Baker Bae’ yesterday, I couldn’t stop thinking of you.” Ryan says, and Jeremy inches closer.

“Is that the only reason?” He asks, and before Ryan can respond, he looks up, then quickly takes off.

Jeremy turns to see that Gavin’s casually strolled out to the kitchen, and when they catch eyes, hurriedly averts his eyes as to not draw attention. But when Gavin walks over anyway, he hopes to god that his blush isn’t too obvious.

“Turney make a really unsubtle attempt at casually asking for cookies?” Gavin asks, and Jeremy smiles.

“I didn’t realize it was pre-planned.” He says, and Gavin gives him an odd look, almost as though he’s studying him.

“Yeah, well, you’ve been distracted, haven’t you.” He says flatly, not a question, but Jeremy plays dumb.

“Me? Distracted?” He asks lamely, and Gavin narrows his eyes.

“Just looking out for ya, Dooley.” He says cryptically, and walks away.

Weird. More so than usual. Well, at any rate, he has macaron flavors to think about.

 

* * *

 

By the time he gets home, he decides to divide his macaron batch into chocolate, espresso, and raspberry. First he toasts his almonds, then courses them to meal, sifts them, and pulses them in the food processor a second time before sifting again. He measures it out by weight, using a kitchen scale, then adds sifted confectioner sugar and sets the dry ingredients aside.

“You have to sift everything, and you have to weigh everything.” Jeremy says as Scooter walks in and takes a seat on the tiled floor. “That way it’s light and airy and the measurements are exact.”

Then he grabs the unpasteurized eggs he bought from a local farm stand on the way home, which have been sitting at room temperature since they were hatched.

“Very important that they’re room temp, Scooter.” He says to the cat as he sits, watching patiently. “And that they’ve been room temp for awhile. I didn’t have time to let eggs sit overnight, I had to buy ‘em straight from a local chicken butt.”

He separates the whites and beats them until light and frothy, then folds in the dry ingredients and divides the basic batter into three different bowls. To the first, he sifts in dutch process cocoa powder and folds gently. 

“It has to sit for like a half hour now.” He says to Scooter. “Get them less sticky.”

He grabs the second bowl of batter and a spice grinder, and gets his espresso powder ground even more finely, then sifts it into the bowl. He lets those sit as well, then pulls some freeze dried raspberries out of his cabinet, cleans out his spice grinder, and grinds those into a fine powder, then sifts that into a third bowl.

He lets them all sit awhile as he tidies his kitchen, then grabs a pastry bag, a coupler, and a half inch diameter piping tip and gently spoons the macarons into the bag, while still forcing the batter down as to avoid air bubbles. He pipes them with a steady hand onto a baking sheet in small circles, then taps the baking sheet to reduce bubbles and leaves them to rest on the counter.

“They need to dry out to get that essential shell.” He says to Scooter. “The insides will still be wet and then get fluffy when they bake, the outsides will dry and crisp up. Kind of like getting the top to some brownie recipes flaky.”

There’s a forty five minute wait for the first batch of macarons after that, so he begins to make the fillings. He throws chopped dark chocolate and heavy cream into a saucepan and melts it down into a gorgeous ganache, then separates it to two different bowls and adds espresso powder to one, then sits that bowl on a sticky-note to remember which filling goes to which cookie.

“It smells amazing in here.” He notes to himself. “My diet might go right out the window today.”

He puts his medium saucepan in the sink and pulls out a smaller one, and tosses in raspberries, sugar, and lemon juice, heating it up until it’s bubbling nicely and pulling it off the oven after. He then uses a spatula to mash it through a fine sieve, getting it smooth and effectively removing most seeds. He lets that cool to room temperature as he puts the first batch of macarons in the oven.

They bake for ten minutes, he pulls them out to cool, then adds the next sheet, and so on until he’s cooked off all three flavors. He then beats softened butter and adds the raspberry puree to it to create his final filling. After the first batch of cookies begin to cool, he flips them over to search for hollow shells and air pockets, but thankfully finds few, and throws the duds away.

“Filling time.” He mumbles as he stirs the ganache without the espresso in it, and it’s smooth like silk and twice as beautiful. He ices half the macarons, sandwiches them, and grabs a small box to place them all in on their side.

Then he grabs the other ganache, the coffee macarons, and repeats the process, and again with the raspberry flavored cookies. In the end, he’s got three pretty little boxes of macarons, all ready to go directly to The Patch and to a hopefully impressed Ryan Haywood. He’s not too worried though, and can tell things are finally getting close. Ryan will make that request, and he knows it’ll be sooner rather than later.


	11. Chapter 11

“Alright, let’s pause.” Geoff says, and they all quit out of Minecraft. “Have fun abandoning us, Ryan.”

“I will.” He answers with a smug grin, then takes his leave. He’s due on The Patch, so everyone has to stop and go back to editing for awhile. For a few minutes, Jeremy plays at doing just that, then goes to the RT website and gets ready for the live stream to begin.

“Welcome to The Patch, sponsored by Nature Box and Trunk Club, I’m Ryan.” He announces professionally, which is completely adorable in Jeremy’s eyes.

“I’m Ashley.”

“And I’m Meg.” Meg finishes. “Hey, before we get to the games, we should mention that something fun is happening for us today--”

“Yeah, I’m excited for this!” Ashley smiles and points to the three boxes sitting on the table between them. “So what’s going on here?”

“Lovely Jeremy from Achievement Hunter made macarons for us!” Meg answers, and picks up a box. “Thank you, Jeremy!”

Jeremy very much enjoys being called lovely.

“And we’ve got flavors going on here, too.” Ryan adds as he leans over. “Coffee, my favorite.”

“Was that sarcastic?” Meg asks with a laugh as she opens the raspberry box. “So we’ve got raspberry here, they’re pink and beautiful, and the chocolate’s near you, Ash.”

“Well I’m going to devour these.” Ashley says as she pulls the box over and immediately pulls out two cookies. “I love chocolate.”

“Yeah, he was explaining to us before what the filling was made of.” Ryan supplies. “It’s like chocolate and whipped cream or something? I don’t know, we were too busy making fun of him.”

“Awww.” Meg coos. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Ryan raises his hands defensively. “I’m an innocent bystander here.”

Jeremy nods to himself. Ryan doesn’t poke fun like the rest of them, the sweetheart.

“Are you really innocent if you let everyone tease him?” Ashley asks between bites, and Ryan laughs.

“Well, we need content, I can’t get in the way of that.” He says, and Jeremy nods respectfully at that, too.

“Oh yeah, totally.” Meg says with a laugh. “These macarons are really good though.”

“Jack called them ‘the most gayly French thing he’s ever seen.’” Ryan recalls, and Meg coos again.

Jack did say that, but he asked if that was okay right afterwards, and though Jeremy requested that the gay jokes be a little funnier next time around, the string of words that followed (“We’re about to have the gay joke olympics, aren’t we.” Michael asked before everyone went around the room with their best ‘what do gay horses eat’ remarks) were humorous enough that they’d stay in the video, so in a few weeks, the fans will be a lot more knowledgable. Not that he minds, so long as everything stays casual.

“Aww. Well, they’re really good Jeremy, thank you so much for these.” Meg says as Ashley nods.

“Yeah, these are delicious.” She reaches for another box. “Take one, Ryan.”

“No, I’ll let you two enjoy them, it’s clear you both really like them.” He says, all chivalrous, and Jeremy’s as charmed as he is disappointed. No matter, he’ll tell Jeremy what to bake soon enough. Patience.

“Oh, come on Ryan.” Meg says. “I know that Jeremy dropped what he was supposed to give you, and now we’re all waiting for a real order. Why can’t you just ask for something?”

“I’m thinking! A guy can’t think?” He responds, and Meg glares at him.

“Well, why can’t you just eat something he makes while you try to decide? Just like, in the meantime.” Meg suggests, looking like she’s really on a mission to get Ryan to have one. Jeremy feels an increase in fondness for her in that very moment.

“Because it’s yours, you asked for it!” He cries out indignantly. “I’m not gonna mooch.”

“You’re not mooching!” Ashley cuts in, and Meg agrees, but he shakes his head.

“Look, when I get my thing, I’ll eat it and enjoy it.” Ryan says. “But it has to be special.”

“Why does it have to be special?” Meg asks, and Ryan pauses for a moment.

“Because he’s so talented, I can’t waste that on just anything.” He says, but it doesn’t sound completely true. Jeremy can guess (and hope) why; maybe, just maybe, there are some feelings deep down. Maybe Ryan recognizes the meaning behind this, too.

“You two are getting closer, aren’t you?” Meg asks with narrowed eyes, and Ryan blushes. It’s literally the best thing Jeremy’s ever seen. “What, are you guys besties now?”

“I’d like my bestie to be at least half my height, thank you very much.” Ryan says, and Ashley laughs, but the looks on Meg’s face is more than familiar. He’d just seen the same on Gavin. How the hell did they know about all this?

“Jeremy!” Geoff calls to him in the room, not through the podcast but in the room with him, and Jeremy turns around and pulls off his headphones. “I know you’re trying to see what they all think of your pink cookies, but back to work.”

“Yessir.” He says, then switches off The Patch and goes back to editing. He looks over to Gavin sitting in his chair and eyes him just as suspiciously as his girlfriend had eyed Ryan. Whatever it is, he’ll get down to the bottom of things eventually. For now, though, he distracts himself with his real work.

 

* * *

 

It’s not for awhile that Ryan comes back in, but when he does, Geoff notices immediately.

“Hey Rye, can you jump into Minecraft while we have you? I wanna get this done.” Geoff says, and Ryan looks surprised.

“Uh, yeah. But can you give me a minute?” He asks, and Geoff nods.

“Everyone sit down, we’re doing Minecraft.” Geoff calls to the room, and everyone standing around or editing sits down and switches on their X-Box. Ryan walks through the office, but instead of going to his own desk, he steps over to Jeremy.

“Ah fuck, I have a meeting later. Hurry it up Ryan.” Geoff says. “Right now, come on.”

“Hold on--” Ryan starts, then glances back at Jeremy with a defeated look on his face. “Okay.”

“No, wait!” Gavin says, and bounces to his feet. “Geoff, wait!”

“What the--” He begins, but Gavin cuts him off.

“What are you gonna say, Ryan?” He asks, and everyone in the room stops and looks up at him standing next to Jeremy. “Say it!”

Jeremy’s completely perplexed, and guessing from Ryan’s facial expression, he feels the same.

“Um.” Ryan begins eloquently, then looks back down to him. “What I was going to say was, uh, Jeremy, can I speak to you for a minute?”

“A request!” Gavin yelps, and everyone in the room goes from mild confusion to brightened faces.

“Eighty years later!” Michael yells.

Jeremy looks up to Ryan in wordless disbelief, and the older man smiles and nods. Holy fuck, this is it.

“Finally. Tell us what the hell it is!” Jack says, and everyone waits on baited breath. Ryan looks to Jeremy, a silent question of approval, and Jeremy gives him an encouraging look.

“I decided this before Meg kept asking about it on The Patch.” Ryan explains to him. “I don’t want you to think--”

“Sure ya did, Ryan.” Geoff interrupts. “She didn’t bully you into choosing at all.”

“She didn’t! I figured it out before.” He replies indignantly.

“Oh, get on with it!” Gavin yells, and Ryan turns back to Jeremy.

“When I, uh, worked in Milan.” Ryan begins unsteadily.

“As a male model.” Jack adds.

“Right. I used to eat this thing all the time. It was called bomboloni.” Ryan says.

“Dumb name, but continue.” Michael says, and Geoff chuckles.

“Do you -- do you know what that is?” Ryan asks, timid under all the watchful eyes.

“No, but I can make it.” Jeremy responds immediately, and Ryan looks impressed, and dare Jeremy say, charmed.

“He’s so confident.” Michael grins. “‘Whatever it is, I can do it! No problem!’”

“It’s an Italian donut.” Ryan supplies. “I don’t know why it’s better, but it is.”

“Yeah, I can do it.” Jeremy nods, and Jack whoops and applauds.

“Great, now can we get back to work?” Geoff asks with a voice full of exasperation.

“Sure, Geoff, let’s all just gloss over that historic moment.” Gavin says as he sits back down. “Not like that was the greatest bit of 2016 or anything.”

“Let’s play!” Geoff says, ignoring him, but Jeremy’s thoughts are elsewhere.

Bombolono. An Italian donut. Well, given how fond Ryan is of kolache, this isn’t a huge shocker. He’d expected something unequivocally southern, a request for red velvet cake or chess pie, but yeah, an Italian donut fits.

There’s only one issue; Jeremy can’t make it.

 

* * *

 

When he gets home, the first thing he does is google bomboloni. One hardcore study session later, he’s got his head hung in his hands, and he feels like an absolute idiot.

“Scooter, this is a disaster.” He mumbles into his palms. “How the hell am I gonna do this?”

Because he’s supposed to be the great baker, the oh so talented one. Didn’t he just make a near perfect batch of macarons for Meg and Ashley? Didn’t he churn up the greatest ice cream Jack has ever eaten? And did he not figure out a solution for a man who could never taste pecan pie? And now Ryan has one request, and he can’t complete it? One request, for the only person he really wants to bake for. Fuck.

“A donut, Scooter.” He removes his hands and pleads to the cat. “But I can’t work with yeast.”

He’s never successfully baked a loaf of bread, or an American donut, or even a pizza crust for Christ’s sakes. He’d destroyed Mardi Gras three years ago with flat beignets, showed up empty handed on senior year’s multicultural day because he couldn’t get his focaccia to rise, and now the one thing that stands between him and the love of Ryan freaking Haywood is the only thing he can’t do.

Well, he has to, doesn’t he. He has to succeed, because the only other option is not having Ryan, and there’s no way in hell that’s happening. So it’s time to try his goddamn hardest.

Scooter jumps into his lap, and he looks down at the pretty little cat, then pats his head.

“No offense, Scooter, but I can’t pet you right now.” Jeremy says, then looks up, determination searing in his gut. “I have to bake.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the strawberry cookies from chapter six yesterday and they came out great! these, brownies, and today's chocolate chip cookies are actually the only things i've made from this entire story.

Two days later, he comes in with a white box. He can feel a few eyes on him, and when he walks into the office, he spots Ryan from the corner of his own eye, looking at the gift in his hands. He walks in Ryan’s direction, and then, without looking at him, walks past him into the B-Team office, and hands Steffie her chocolate chip cookies. He leaves and walks past Ryan once more, not looking and unsure of the expression on his face, but he knows how his own must look; besieged with anger and guilt.

His first two patches of bomboloni were utter failures. Two different recipes, and he had to throw them both away before he could even cook them. The first never rose, and the second he made the day previous, in the pouring rain, which may have helped the yeast succeed, but all that moisture messed with the flour and caused a collapse by the second kneading. And now he has to show up to work with nothing.

“Hey Jeremy.” Lindsay says as he sits down. “Where’s the donuts you promised Ryan?”

“I’m uh, I’m working on it.” He answers, but he doesn’t dare look at Ryan for the rest of the day. He doesn’t want to see anger or annoyance or whatever the hell the other man’s feeling.

 

* * *

 

“The thing about bomboloni.” He says, pacing around his kitchen. “Is that it’s served warm. American donuts are usually warmish, more often room temp. So that’s already an issue, making them and getting them into work hot.”

Scooter swats at his feet as he passes by; Jeremy pays him no mind.

“Then there’s the variety of recipes. Did he have them made with eggs or ricotta? We just have to make two different batches and see which tastes better. But if the ricotta is better, it would surely still underperform, because whatever American ricotta I buy won’t compare to the genuine Italian -- so I have to research ricotta brands.”

Scooter swats at his feet again and gets stuck on his sock. He shakes his paw awkwardly, and Jeremy helps him get his claw out of the cotton.

“But before all of that bullshit, I have to get the yeast to rise. Somehow.” Jeremy says, and he all he can think of is how absolutely fucked he is. But he tries again, because he must.

He pulls out his new yeast, mixes up a dough, and throws it in an oiled bowl. He covers it with a clean kitchen towel and pushes it to the side to let it rise.

“I bought some fresh yeast, so hopefully, this one’ll work.” He says to Scooter, then turns to the bowl and stares it down. “I’m gonna check on you in forty minutes, and you better be double your size, damnit.”

And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happens forty minutes later.

“Rise!” Jeremy’s yelling at a bowl of dough while his cat is running for cover in the background. “Rise, damnit!”

 

* * *

 

“Empty handed again, Lil’ J?” Geoff asks as Jeremy walks into work. Ten seconds in the room and he’s already tired of the subject.

“Uh, yeah.” Jeremy says, and sits down at his desk with a huff. For a moment, everyone continues working silently, then Gavin stands up, and Jeremy can feel his eyes on him.

“Hey, Lil’ J, I had an editing issue with SloMo that you fixed last time I asked you.” Gavin calls out to him. “Can I show you? It’s on my other computer.”

“Sure.” Jeremy replies easily enough, almost glad to get out of the room, and follows Gavin through the B-Team office and into his new one. He steps up to the computer, expecting Gavin to come with him, but Gavin instead closes the door behind them. Jeremy turns to give him a questioning look, but instead he sees annoyance on the Brit’s face.

“What the hell are you doing, Lil’ J?” Gavin hisses, and Jeremy’s lost.

“You just asked me--” He explains, pointing to the computer, but Gavin interrupts.

“Shh! Not that, that’s not real.” He waves his hand in dismissal. “What the hell are you doing with Ryan? You’re gonna blow it!”

“What?” Jeremy asks, loud and shocked, and Gavin waves his hands about again.

“Shh! Thin walls, Jeremy!” He says, then points to the door. “I can hear everything B-Team’s saying, and vice versa!”

Suddenly, Jeremy recalls one of the last times he talked to Ryan alone; in the deserted B-Team office, that was apparently a little less empty than first thought.

“You --” Jeremy begins, then drops to a whisper. “You heard me talk to Ryan in here?”

“Did I accidentally eavesdrop on the most emotionally scarring conversation of my life, you mean? Yeah.” Gavin says crossly. “Apparently you’re cute when you get flustered.”

Jeremy opens his mouth to say something, but not a sound comes out. He can’t really form the loose mess in his brain that vaguely resembles ‘oh holy shit, what the fuck’ into words.

“Don’t look so worried, I haven’t told a soul, just Turney.” Gavin whispers, and Jeremy nods mutely. The image of Gavin sitting in his office gasping to himself in shock and abject horror is amusing in a terribly odd way.

“So . . . why did you ask me to meet you here, then?” Jeremy asks, and Gavin gives him a defiant look.

“Because, you dope, you finally got a request from him and yet you’ve showed up empty handed the past three days!” Gavin whisper-yells with a strong look. “Turney and I’ve been working our asses off trying to nudge you two together, the least you could do is play your part!”

“You’ve been--” Jeremy begins, then pauses. Every time a request from Ryan had been mentioned for the past week or so, it was Gavin that started the conversation. Gavin that noticed he’d been distracted and Meg that asked for food for The Patch and then urged Ryan to eat it. Gavin that told Geoff to let Ryan speak when the request finally came. It’s true; he and Meg have been trying to set them up.

“But why?” Jeremy asks, and Gavin looks shocked.

“You really think I’m not gonna be a wingman to you two when the opportunity arises?” He asks, looking cheeky, and then grows stern. “You have to make those donuts, Jay, and you have to do it soon, or he’ll lose all hope.”

“I don’t even know if he has hope.” Jeremy admits sorely. “Sure, he’s been flirting, but he’s so closed off. I don’t know what’s going on in his brain.”

“Well, as soon as you give him what he asks for, he’s gonna have to deal with his feelings for you, isn’t he.” Gavin says, sounding so wise that Jeremy suspects these are Meg’s words. “I don’t know what he knows about his own gayness, but he’s stalling on totally confessing his love for you.”

“Do you really think so?” Jeremy asks, and Gavin nods solemnly. “I just don’t want to be wrong. All these feelings for him--”

“Okay, okay, don’t get too sappy.” Gavin butts in. “I promise the feelings are there, if it all goes south you can hate me for life.”

Jeremy wants to insist that he could never, but well, if Gavin steers him wrong in this he might have to loathe his guts for eternity, yeah.

“Alright then, you’re good?” Gavin asks. “You’ll make the donuts now?”

Jeremy bites his lip. He figures that if Gavin already knows all this shit, then it won’t hurt to add more to the pile.

“I can’t.” He admits in a small voice. “I don’t know how to do yeast. I’ve already ruined three batches.”

Gavin pales and looks away, tensing his brow. He’s clearly worried, perhaps thinking that he’ll never succeed.

“Alright. Okay. First off, keep trying, because I think you can do it, I really do.” Gavin starts.

“I will, thank you.” Jeremy answers.

“Second, if you can’t do it, we’ll team up and scheme together. But until then, I’m gonna wait for you, give Ryan some positive hints.” Gavin says, more genuinely kind and supportive than Jeremy’s ever seen him. “We can do this Lil’ J.”

“Positive hints?” Jeremy asks wearily, and Gavin nods.

“You know, I’ll just point out that you’ve been working out or you look nice today or something.” Gavin says with a smile, and Jeremy sighs.

“And you don’t think that’ll be obvious at all?” He asks as he gives the other man a look, and Gavin laughs.

“Be thankful I’ve told Meg not to do the same, she’s the worst actor in the world.” He says, and Jeremy smiles. “Seriously, keep trying. You can do it.”

The support helps a lot, even if it comes from a good friend accidentally hearing some role-play themed flirting. Poor Gavin. But Jeremy appreciates it, and he can feel a fond smile form on his lips as he responds.

“Okay.” Jeremy agrees. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

“Switching to instant yeast, Scooter.” Jeremy says as he throws a grocery bag onto the counter. “I’m not sure how much that’s gonna change things, but let’s try it out.”

He mixes everything together, leaves it to rise, and steps into his kitchen a few hours later, still somehow hopeful despite the three previous failures. And there on the counter, lo and behold, a fully risen dough! Jeremy almost cheers aloud, but Scooter’s sleeping in a box and he’s not gonna wake the poor guy up over finishing round one.

“Okay, let’s fry these bad boys and taste them.” Jeremy says, and fishes out a heavy-bottomed saucepan, then fills it with canola oil. He clips a newly purchased thermometer onto the side of the pan (he only has candy thermometers, and apparently those don’t do well in boiling oil) and gets to work.

He shapes the dough, and finds it incredibly sticky, so he covers it all liberally with flour. Then he makes sure his fry oil is 350 degrees and sets the first in; it comes out golden, but when he cuts into it, it makes a faint little squelching sound and literally drips canola oil. Worse, the flour on the outside has gotten real chunked up and nasty. 

“Ew. Frying is a chef’s job.” Jeremy mutters in annoyance. “What’s the next step in this godforsaken recipe, deboning a chicken?”

He’s seen enough Food Network to know that an oily product can mean the oil just isn’t hot enough, so he raises the temperature, wipes some of the flour off the next donut, and lowers it in gently. In under three minutes, he’s pulling a blackened, foul smelling donut from the pot.

“Okay, lowering that temperature now.” Jeremy mutters to himself as he tweaks the stovetop heat. But the oil’s full of little burnt bomboloni bits, there’s oil splattered all over his stovetop and counter, and the whole place smells like a drive-through, so he’s struggling to keep his head up now.

He lowers in the dough he has remaining, the only stuff that isn’t caked in flour, and quickly finds himself scraping it from the bottom of the pan.

“Why are you sticking?” He hisses at what was once a donut as he mutilates it with a spatula. It’s around this time that his smoke detector goes off, and as he opens every window in the house, he decides that he’s done for the night.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so, these donuts are made in Italy, and the fact that I don’t have Italian flour may have been an issue.” Jeremy says as he plops a few grocery bags onto the counter. “But I’ve done some research, and I’m gonna tinker with the recipe and sub in a fourth of the all purpose flour for cake flour.”

Scooter meows as Jeremy pulls multiple bags and boxes of flour from the grocery bags. Last night wasn’t the greatest, but in failing, he researched, and in researching, he learned, so really, it was a step forward.

“Also, I went on a bread forum during my lunch break.” While Ryan was off recording something and couldn’t accidentally discover Jeremy’s traumatic failures. “They said that I should put the dough in the fridge for up to an hour to deal with stickiness.”

So he makes the dough again, leaves it to rise again, somehow finds accidental success again, and throws it in the fridge for an hour. When he pulls it out and fries a few bomboloni, they come out golden brown, and Jeremy cuts into one and tastes it, because screw his diet when he’s baking for Ryan Haywood. He chews slowly for a moment, then looks down to Scooter carefully.

“. . . It’s edible.” He concludes, and takes another bite. “But clearly we need to do this with ricotta.”

Back to the drawing board.


	13. Chapter 13

“This is the most expensive ricotta I could get at Whole Foods.” Jeremy says the next evening as he holds up the tub to show Scooter. “I didn’t even know where to get expensive ricotta so I just went to a rich people store. Hopefully it won’t be grainy and we’ll get it to mix in well.”

Jeremy’s no stranger to ricotta though, and throws it into his food processor for a quick buzz to ensure a lack of curds. He mixes the dough, and it rises fine, but it’s sticky and damp, so he puts it in the fridge. However, when he returns in an hour, he finds the dough wilting and sweaty and sat in a milky puddle.

“Damn it.” Jeremy groans, then pulls the bowl from the fridge and flips it over above the trash can, properly ejecting the dough. Another failure, but at least it has an easy fix; he just needs to strain the ricotta overnight.

So he goes out, buys another tub of ricotta, stops at a Bed Bath and Beyond for some cheesecloth, then uses it to line a strainer. He puts the ricotta through the food processor again, then spreads it around in the strainer, then places the strainer in a bowl, and throws the whole thing into the fridge overnight.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy’s only at work for ten minutes before Gavin asks for more editing help. As soon as they step into his office, he shuts the door and gives Jeremy a sneaking look.

“Status report, Jeremy.” He says in a low voice, and Jeremy sighs.

He’d felt confident when he discarded the excess liquid from the ricotta that morning and wrapped it in plastic, but he’s still so concerned that everything can go south. He still has so much to fix up and so much to take care of that he’s nowhere near certain that things will turn out alright.

“I’m making progress.” He says slowly. “I failed again last night, but I’m in the process of getting something right. That’s still only two steps, though.”

“Oh, woe is me.” Gavin says with a roll of his eyes. “You’re doing better, Jeremy. You’re going to get this.”

“It’s still the bane of my existence.” Jeremy says, and Gavin gives him a soft grin.

“You know, if I keep propping you up, I won’t be able to keep up my piece of shit reputation.” Gavin says, and Jeremy laughs.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He says, and steps out of the room.

 

* * *

 

“So, if I can pull this off, there’s still the issue of getting them into work hot and fresh.” He says to Scooter as he mixes the milk with the strained ricotta. He sifts the flour carefully before speaking again.

“But I did some research, and decided to get a microwaveable hot plate. You throw it in for a minute or two and bam, keeps food hot for an hour.” Jeremy explains as Scooter stretches lazily. “It’s coming in like two days thanks to Prime.”

He finishes with the dough and throws a towel over the bowl.

“So if that’s what happens, then I’ll just prepare the ingredients the night before, wake up super early in the morning, make it, fry it all, roll them in sugar, stuff them, put them on the hot plate and take it in.” Jeremy says, then groans, exhausted at the thought. “So simple, right little guy?”

He sets the bowl aside, smiles at his cat, and comes back in an hour, only to have, well:

“Why?” He screams, falling to his knees. “Why didn’t you rise? What the hell did I do wrong now? When will I leave this world of eternal anguish and misery?”

Just. Not the best evening.

 

* * *

 

He’s not exactly thrilled at coming to work the next day. The previous night had been a long one, what with all the stress-crying and buying new ricotta to strain all over again. So he’s quiet in a few videos, and Gavin keeps shooting him concerned glances, but there’s nothing he can do but wait and sulk.

And he sulks all the way to lunch break, but when he walks out to the kitchen to grab his salad, he becomes quite alert when he realizes a certain Ryan Haywood is walking just a few steps behind. His internal monologue of ‘please don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me’ is totally wimpy, yeah, but avoidance is the only solution he can think of right now, so by God does he apply it.

“Jeremy.” Ryan calls out to him. Fuck.

“Uh-huh?” He asks, acting distant as he opens the fridge to grab his salad. But when he closes the door, Ryan’s standing there, looking distraught, and Jeremy’s resolve weakens.

“We need to talk.” Ryan says softly, which would be a terrifying term to be dealt if it hadn’t come from Mr. Puppy Eyes himself. “Are you . . . mad at me?”

Jeremy’s too surprised at that to respond. He stares at Ryan, who’s all nerves, and that seems to panic him, because he blurts out his next words.

“Did I make a mistake?” Ryan asks somewhat urgently. “About your intentions -- or your feelings?”

“My -- my feelings--” Jeremy mumbles, trying and failing to get a mental grasp of the situation.

“I thought you were -- well, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have flirted, I’m so sorry Jeremy.” Ryan says, and oh no, he looks ready to cry. Jeremy shakes his head, alarmed.

“No! You’re not mistaken. Jesus, no, Ryan.” He rubs his forehead and takes a deep breath. “I mean, I’m trying to be subtle, but I don’t want you to think that -- I mean, if you’re -- if you feel--”

He looks up at Ryan, who’s still very clearly upset.

“Are you mad that I haven’t tried anything you’ve eaten? I’ve explained--” Ryan begins, and Jeremy cuts him off.

“No, I’m not. I’m not mad at all.” Jeremy says, and Ryan looks confused.

“You’re avoiding me. You’re not talking to me. You didn’t make the bomboloni.” Ryan says, and Jeremy looks down at the floor.

“I can’t.” He mumbles defeatedly.

“What?” Ryan asks quietly, and Jeremy’s not sure if he didn’t hear or he didn’t believe it. Jeremy looks back up to him, and he can tell the pain is clear on his face.

“I can’t make it. It’s too hard.” He explains in a hushed tone. “I’ve tried so many batches, but it won’t rise, or it burns, or it’s all oily.”

Ryan looks shocked, then saddened. There’s pity in his features, like he can understand exactly what Jeremy’s gone through, the lack of sleep and the lengthy list of failures.

“I’m so sorry, Ryan.” Jeremy says sincerely, and Ryan looks away from him and nods. He hadn’t expected this to happen, he’d assumed Jeremy could do it and perfect it, but he can’t. He’s not good enough. And there’s no back-up plan for this.

“I guess --” Ryan begins, then pauses. “I don’t know.”

“I’m right there with ya.” Jeremy answers, and lets out a bitter laugh. Ryan looks to him in careful thought, maybe trying to figure out some sort of solution, some sort of restitution for their weary tip-toeing around the reality of their feelings for one another.

Suddenly, Geoff steps in hastily, and Jeremy automatically takes a half-step back from Ryan. Ryan notices him pull away, and puts on a blank expression as Geoff approaches.

“Hey nerds, we need you.” Geoff commands. “Filming fix. Eat at your desks.”

“Okay.” Ryan says immediately, and without looking at Jeremy, turns and follows Geoff away.

Fuck. Ryan’s completely lost, he doesn’t know what to do with a disaster he didn’t expect, and now Jeremy’s unable to properly seduce him. After all this, what is he supposed to do now? How can he fix things?

Unfortunately, there’s only one solution that comes to mind, the only solution that’s basically impossible; he has to make the bomboloni. He has to perfect it. There’s no way he can just let Ryan slip right out of his grasp over a batch of donuts -- if he can work his fingers to the bone to figure out how to make this recipe work, he will. He must.

Much more determined than he’s previously been, Jeremy takes a deep breath, puts on a brave face, and returns to the office.

 

* * *

 

“Okay.” Jeremy grits his teeth. “This time we’re gonna warm the milk to encourage yeast bloom. This time we’re not gonna fuck up. Right, Scooter?”

Scooter doesn’t look very understanding, but Jeremy appreciates the support.

Warm the milk. Combine dry ingredients. Pull the strained ricotta from the fridge. Mix it all together. Throw a towel over it. Pray like you’ve never done so before. Come back in an hour.

“You better be twice your original size, you fucker.” Jeremy mutters as he steps into his kitchen. He uncovers the bowl with great bravado, and lets a grin creep onto his face. “Good. Now get in the fridge.”

He chills it for an hour, returns, heats the oil, shapes the dough, fries a donut, pulls it out golden brown, pats it with a paper towel, then rolls it in sugar.

“Why does this look so perfect?” Jeremy questions to himself as he inspects the donut. “Scooter, I can’t tell, what did I fuck up?”

He bites in, and holy crap, it’s delicious. Tender dough, the light flavor of ricotta peeking through, not too oily with very little sweetness in the dough itself. The sugar is too coarse, so as he makes a second donut, he pulls out his food processor, grinds it down just a little more fine, and rolls the next donut in that. He takes a bite of the new one and groans aloud.

“Oh my god.” He says, then rushes to his fridge and pulls out some raspberry jam. He grabs a butter knife and slathers it on, then takes another bite. “Holy Jesus, I did it.”

Finally, Jeremy finds himself successful. He eats the entire donut, and then three more, and decides that he wants to be the fattest slob who ever lived, but before that, he needs to go to the store.

“Scooter!” Jeremy cheers, and Scooter gives him an excited look. “I did it! I made the bomboloni!”

Now all he has to do is repeat it. Repeat it, apply the finishing touches, and present it to Ryan tomorrow morning. That, and hope that he takes them and loves them, and hope that he falls for Jeremy in return.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter! thanks for all the wonderful comments!

At the store, he buys more yeast, more milk, more ricotta, and two boxes of raspberries, then makes a mad dash home to strain the cheese.

“Here’s the plan.” Jeremy explains to Scooter as he scoops the ricotta into the strainer. “I’m gonna prepare the dry ingredients now, make the fillings, go to bed, wake up early, prep the dough, sleep while it rises, put it in the fridge, sleep again, then get up, fry them, stuff them, and pack them up to bring to work.”

Scooter stares at him, alert, and Jeremy smiles fondly at him. Then he turns away, sifts the flour and cake flour, and loads the raspberries into a small saucepan with sugar, water, and lemon zest. While that heats, he chops his semisweet chocolate, then throws it into his larger saucepan with some heavy cream to make a ganache.

To make his third filling, a simple Italian custard, he throws some milk, vanilla extract, and lemon zest into a pot and brings it to a boil. His raspberry sauce gets thick in that moment, and he pulls it off the heat and sets it aside. Then he grabs a bowl and whisks egg yolks with sugar until it’s a bit lighter and a tad frothy and sifts in some flour to thicken. When the milk begins to boil, he grabs a ladle.

“Tempering.” Jeremy mutters to his cat, “Is taking some of your hot liquid and quickly stirring it into your eggs, thus raising their temperature. That way, when you add your eggs to the pot, they don’t scramble.”

He stirs in some hot milk, then adds the egg mixture to the pot and stirs continuously. He gets it boiling again, cooks it for a few more minutes, and turns off the heat. Lifting the pot carefully, he pours it into a bowl and lets it cool, then takes his chocolate and heavy cream, now a smooth ganache, and pulls that off the heat as well.

At this point, he decides to collapse into bed, and gets about three hours of sleep before his alarm goes off and he hauls himself out of bed and mixes the dough. He throws a towel over it, crashes on the couch, and wakes up again in forty minutes. The dough, thank fucking god, has decided to rise, so he throws it in the fridge and spends about twenty minutes half-conscious back on his couch.

Then, Jeremy pulls out the dough, heats up his oil, and shapes the bomboloni. He drops the first few in, turns them after a few minutes, and pulls them out a few minutes after that. Then he pats them dry with paper towels, rolls them in sugar, and sets them aside. He drops the next few in, then grabs his microwaveable hot plate and nukes it. He sets up a white cardboard box and puts an eight inch cardboard cake round in the bottom for added durability, then places the microwaveable hot plate in it and tops it with a piece of parchment to keep it tidy.

He flips the donuts and turns back to the three he’s pulled out, punctures their tops with a skewer, and fills a pastry bag with ganache. He fills the donuts, places them into the box, and admires his handiwork.

“Bomboloni are different from American donuts because they’re filled from the top.” Jeremy explains to Scooter. His voice is weighed down with sleep, and Scooter tilts his head at him.

He continues this until he has several ganache donuts, then places a parchment square on top of that row to begin the next. He strains the raspberry jam he made into a new pastry bag and stuffs the next group of bomboloni with that, then again with a new row for the custard. Finally, he stands back and admires his work. A dozen donuts, four each of three flavors, perfect for the office and perfect for Ryan.

“In the end, it was actually pretty easy.” Jeremy mumbles to himself, then turns to his cat. Scooter gives him a hopeful look, and Jeremy smiles.

He’s finally succeeded. He’s exhausted, sticky with jam, and he smells like fry oil, but he’s done it. Now all he needs is Ryan’s approval, and somehow he feels that it won’t be too hard to get.

“I need to shower, I smell like a McDonald’s.” He says, and grins wider. Take a shower, deliver the bomboloni. No problem, nothing to worry about now, just waiting to see of the man he loves might love him back, no big deal.

 

* * *

 

When he walks into work holding the box, he’s actually stressed as all shit. The complete lack of sleep and the Red Bull he shotgunned in the car on the way over are causing some major quakes, and for a few paranoid moments, he convinces himself he’s going to drop the box all over the floor. But that would be way too embarrassing, especially after the Brownie Incident (340,000+ views and several replies to be featured on Presented With Comment), so he sucks in a breath and walks into the office, nerves steeled.

The first thing he notices is Ryan’s things at an empty chair. The second, of course, is Gavin’s over the top, borderline comical gasp, and everyone’s heads turning towards him.

“He’s done it, boys!” Gavin yells out, and Jeremy blushes, but gives a wide grin. Jack and Michael applaud, and B-Team all march in and follow suit.

“Well, where the hell is he?” Geoff asks as Jeremy goes and places the box on his desk.

“I’ve no idea.” Gavin answers. “Who’s gonna look for him?”

“I’ll go ask Meg.” Jeremy volunteers bravely. He wants to be the one to find Ryan, tell him the good news, see his eyes light up. Hopefully.

“Of course.” Geoff snickers under his breath. “Meg.”

“Hurry up and find him, then!” Lindsay says, ignoring her boss. “I’ll look for him, too!”

“So will I!” Gavin stands. “Let’s do this, guys! Split up!”

Jeremy rushes out one door, Lindsay and Gavin out another, and the rest of the office is cheering encouragements as they take off. 

“You got this, Jeremy!” Trevor calls out.

“Find him first, honey!” Michael yells to Lindsay, and in the distance, Jeremy hears her affirmation. He rushes down the hall to find Meg, and it’s not long until he spots a flash of purple hair.

“Meg!” Jeremy calls out, and Meg turns around, looking surprised and amused as Jeremy dashes over to her. He grips her shoulders to show her the importance of the situation. “Have you seen Ryan?”

She grins, and Jeremy can tell she knows he’s succeeded. Hell, she and Gavin probably prayed about it together the night before.

“I know he went to talk to Gus awhile ago, try him.” Meg says, and Jeremy nods.

“Thank you.” He says, and he’s already rushing off when he hears her cry of ‘good luck’ in the distance, followed by Jon down the hall yelling the same. He smirks and continues his journey.

He practically slides into Gus’ office, and is nearly panting as Barbara gives him a strange look.

“Have you seen Gus?” He asks her, and she looks bemused.

“He’s roaming.” She answers, and he groans and takes off. “Wait -- what--”

“No time to explain!” He calls over his shoulder as he rushes out the door. He scans the halls and takes off at a brisk pace, turning a few corners until he sees Gus deep in conversation in Burnie, and doesn’t even consider if it’s rude to interrupt before yelling out:

“Gus!” He rushes over, and Gus clearly thinks he’s a lunatic while Burnie’s just observing thoughtfully.

“Jeremy.” He greets flatly, and Jeremy nods and takes a deep breath.

“Have you seen Ryan?” He asks, and Gus, thank the fucking lord, nods. “Where?”

“Uh, he had something to do in props?” Gus recalls, and Jeremy nods. “I think you’ll find him there.”

“Thanks.” Jeremy says, and turns to take off again, when Burnie speaks.

“Hey Jeremy, you’re not gay, right?” He asks, and Jeremy thinks back to their podcast discussion and nearly laughs.

“I’m gay as dicks, man.” He answers easily, and takes off as Burnie looks aghast and Gus pumps his fist in the air.

“This gaydar’s never wrong!” He cheers from behind Jeremy.

Jeremy rushes to props, nearly bowling over an irritated Joel in the process, and upon arrival, only sees Miles playing with some rubber knives and fake guns.

“Miles! Have you seen Ryan anywhere?” He asks, and Miles looks him up and down for a moment, taking in his altogether disheveled, panicky appearance. He clearly decides to ignore it and simply smiles.

“What, is every Achievement Hunter on the lookout for this guy?” He jokes. “Lindsay and Gavin were both just here.”

“And what did you tell them?” Jeremy asks a bit too desperately, hanging on his every word, and Miles shakes his head.

“He went back to the office.” Miles says. “Can’t you guys check your own office before -- where are you . . .?”

He trails off as Jeremy rushes back to the office, but slows down once he gets there. He takes a deep breath and pulls himself together, not wanting to embarrass himself, and gets all well and collected. Then, he swings the door open.

“For fuck’s sake!” Gavin immediately yells, but his voice is impeded by something, and he’s followed by about a dozen different wails and groans, but they’re all muffled as well. Muffled by -- what the hell?

Every single Achievement Hunter, except Ryan, is standing there, eating bomboloni. Jeremy’s taken aback and unsure of what to say, but Michael speaks for him.

“He just left looking for you!” He answers the unspoken question with a hard swallow.

“Oh my gosh, why do you two keep missing each other?” Meg speaks up, and Jeremy notices she’s holding half of Gavin’s ganache bombolono.

“These are really good, by the way.” Geoff states, and Jack chuckles.

“Did -- did Ryan even have one?” Jeremy asks, and everyone looks around as though they don’t want to be the one to answer.

“He took one, took a bite, and said he had to find you.” Lindsay pipes up, and Jeremy’s heart sinks. Is that a good thing or bad? He thought he’d done so well with them.

“Did he like it?” He asks, unsure, and Lindsay shrugs.

“He didn’t say anything.” Matt supplies. “But come on, there’s no way he didn’t like it, this is the best donut I’ve ever had.”

Jeremy sighs and glances over to Gavin, who’s distracted by his donut, but Meg gives him an encouraging look, and he steels himself yet again.

“I have to find him.” Jeremy starts, and everyone groans.

“What, are we gonna do this all day?” Geoff asks. “Just wait for him to get back.”

“What the hell is the big deal anyway?” Trevor asks, and Gavin sighs.

“Open your eyes, you twat.” Gavin replies gracefully. “God, you’re all idiots.”

“Us?” Michael yells. “How are we--”

“You don’t notice a bloody thing, do you?” Gavin squeaks, and Jeremy sighs.

“Holy shit, I can’t take the wait.” Jeremy cuts in. “I’m going to find him, he --”

He stops abruptly as the door slams open, and for a moment, his heart skips a beat, and then Miles strolls in and looks around.

“I told you he’s in here.” Miles calls out to someone just outside the door, hidden from view. “Jesus, what is with you guys today?”

He departs without goodbyes, and in steps Ryan Haywood, in the flesh at last. The room falls silent, everyone glancing between the pair. Jeremy’s looking at Ryan, who appears so disheveled that he must’ve just done the same lap around the building that Jeremy did moments earlier. And Ryan’s looking back to him, an unreadable expression on his face, and then he steps forward.

Ryan crosses the room in two bounds, leans down, and cups his cheeks, then kisses him roughly before he can even comprehend what’s going on. But he instantly kisses back, and it’s even better than he ever could’ve imagined, and all he can taste is the sugar on Ryan’s lips and all he can smell is him and _holy fuck_ , Ryan Fucking Haywood is kissing him. He succeeded, he did it, he made the bomboloni, he got the guy. He smiles against the other man’s mouth, content at that thought.

Suddenly, he can hear the rest of the room again, having formerly been drowned out by sheer joy, and it’s mostly screaming and cheering and a thump as someone (undoubtedly Geoff) hits the floor in pure shock. Ryan smiles as well, and pulls back, still cradling Jeremy’s face in his hands.

“I cannot believe this!” Geoff shouts from the floor, his voice hoarse.

“That’s my boy! That’s my boy!” Gavin yells over him as Meg jumps up and down applauding.

Neither of them turn to look, although Ryan grins even wider.

“I knew. I knew the moment you baked something for me, I’d fall for you.” Ryan says to him softly. “I was so shocked when you told me you couldn’t do it, I didn’t know what would happen --”

“It had to be for this.” Jeremy replies easily, motioning his head to the box of donuts. “It had to be for something special.”

“I should’ve known you could make them.” Ryan answers. “You’re so talented, of course you could.”

“Yeast is hard.” Jeremy says with a chuckle, and Ryan grins.

“It is, I always mess it up. But I figured it was because it’s more of a baker’s thing.” Ryan says, and Jeremy gives him a confused look.

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asks with a knitted brow. “When do you work with yeast?”

“Pretty often.” Ryan answers with a smirk. “I am a cook, after all.”

Jeremy’s jaw drops as he looks to the older man in joyous disbelief, and Ryan merely takes his hands off him and steps back to look around at the wild calamity of the room, and Jeremy stops to do the same.

“How did we not know?” Michael yells. “How did we not figure this out?”

“I knew!” Gavin beams, and Meg nods. “You idiots!”

“You knew?” Lindsay screams. “How on Earth--”

“This is insane!” Jack yells. “This is madness!”

“I can’t believe I lost the official B-Team betting pool.” Matt says mournfully as he pulls out his wallet and Steffie extends her hand. “I thought it would be Ray!”

“Holy shit!” Geoff yells, then looks up to them from his position on the floor and sobers up for a moment. “Seriously, Ryan, you’re gay?”

“Nah.” Ryan answers, then looks back to Jeremy. “I’m bi as hell.”

Jeremy grabs him by the shirt and pulls him forward, and they make out all over again, while everyone in the room resumes their yelling and groaning.

“So seriously, you liked the bombolono?” Jeremy asks as they pull apart breathlessly, and Ryan grins.

“Hell yeah I did! I have to finish mine actually--” He walks over to his desk to finish eating his custard-filled donut.

“‘Alright, enough making out, there’s a donut waiting for me.’” Michael says, laughing, and Jeremy smiles. 

Because really, fuck making out when there’s a donut involved. That shit comes first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so if anyone wants to write baker bae in the future, or even chef!ryan, please feel free to run with it. hope you all liked it :)


End file.
